


Hermione Granger and the Amber Abandonment

by Id (idX)



Series: Girl in Red [5]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, People go a little crazy, ginny weasley - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-05-20 03:12:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 27
Words: 123,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14886539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idX/pseuds/Id
Summary: Voldemort's back.  Rose is gone.  With Dumbledore under fire from the Ministry, it falls to Hermione and her friends to fight back.





	1. No One Else

**Author's Note:**

> The following is a non-profit, fan-based parody. _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_ is owned by J.K. Rowling, and published by Scholastic and Bloomsbury. Please support the official release.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our heroes take a stand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** The following is a non-profit, transformative work. _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_ is owned by J.K. Rowling, and published by Scholastic and Bloomsbury. Please support the official release.

Sarah listened to the storm raging outside their cabin. They rocked back and forth, thrown about on the sea by the wind. 

“Sounds like we’re about there!” She found herself forced to shout over the sound, even with a tightly secured cabin. 

“Lady Rose requested a complete whiteout,” Alavel reminded her. 

“To make it impossible for us to identify where we are, I know! That’s why we’ve been adrift for nearly a day!” 

Taltria moved over to a window and moved the curtain aside. “I’d call that a whiteout, wouldn’t you?” 

Sarah pulled her coat tighter around her and walked slowly to the window, working to compensate for the moving boat. Not two steps from the window, she lost her balance and fell. 

“Careful,” Alavel said when he appeared at her side and caught her. “We still need you to get back.” 

“Good catch.” With Alavel’s help, she returned to her feet. After a minute to catch her balance, she took the last few steps to the window, and saw nothing but white. She inspected it for nearly a minute, then made her way to the door. 

“I don’t know how you two walk so easily,” she said to her companions. 

Taltria dismissed her with a wave of her hand. “This is nothing. Try sword fighting like this.” 

“I have, although it didn’t go well,” Sarah replied, shoving her gloves and hat on. “Luckily for me, the other guy had it worse.” 

Taltria and Alavel exchanged glances, then eyed her in mild disbelief. She knew neither of them believed her story, but then, she didn’t care what they did or didn’t believe. 

“You’ll have to tell us all about it on the trip home,” Taltria said. 

“Depends on how long it takes, and how much alcohol there is left,” Sarah replied, pulling the door open. 

A blast of cold air hit her, nearly knocking her onto her backside. She held onto the door with all her might, then pulled herself out of the cabin and into the frigid arctic air. The Nimblewrights came out right behind her, decked out in their gold-plated armor. 

“Sure this isn’t too much?” she called to them. 

“ _Endure elements_!” Taltria called over the raging storm. “It’ll have to be much colder than this for us to feel it! What about you?” 

“I’ll be alright, just so long as we get inside soon!” 

The three of them helped one another over to the deck where their package lay waiting. An unmarked, solid black coffin, seemingly unaffected by the intense cold of the Arctic Ocean. 

“‘At the bottom of the sea, in a solid adamantine coffin forged around her, in the middle of a whiteout so even those that put her there don’t know where she is!’” Sarah recited. “Your Lady Rose was quite particular!” 

“If anyone got their hands on a single piece of her equipment, it could be disastrous!” Alavel called back. “This is the only way to ensure that she, and it, stay safe!” 

“Couldn’t just make a funeral pyre, could you?!” Sarah called, even though she already knew the answer. She’d asked the question several times when they asked her if she could secure voyage to the Arctic Ocean. 

“She’s immune to fire, even in death!” Taltria called, as she’d said before. “Her body’s virtually indestructible, and so is that coffin! Might as well put the scraps from the maze to good use!” 

The three of them unlatched the coffin from the deck, then pushed it as one over the side of the boat. 

“Farewell, Rose Peta-Lorrum!” Sarah called as the coffin disappeared into the white. “You were a true friend to Sally-Anne!” 

They took a second to stand in silence for Rose. When the boat lurched again, they helped each other back inside the warm cabin. Once inside, Sarah made herself a pot of tea, which the others naturally declined. 

“Land is southeast of here,” Sarah said. “I don’t know where we are, nor does anyone, but we’re mostly north, and once we hit land, we can find our way back to England.” 

Alavel nodded. “Thank you, Sarah. What you’ve done for Lady Rose cannot be described with words.” 

Sarah smiled and laughed away the gratitude. “Think nothing of it. When I think of what Rose did for Sally-Anne, for all their friends, it’s the least I could do to help put her to rest.” She took a sip of her tea, then stared sullenly into the dark liquid. “I only wish I didn’t have to.” 

* * *

Albus walked up the porch and knocked on the door, taking in the quiet neighborhood as he did. He knew it was dangerous, both physically and politically, for anyone to be around him, but he needed to check up on one of the occupants personally. 

“Dumbledore, what brings you round?” Augusta Longbottom asked when she answered the door. 

“Augusta, you know a lovely young lady such as yourself is always welcome to call me Albus,” he replied cheerfully. 

“I’d be flattered if I thought you were here to see me,” Augusta replied. She motioned for him to come inside. 

“Where is the young lad?” 

“Up in his room, where he’s been for nearly a month now.” 

Albus opened the door to Neville’s room and found him just as Augusta had described. The boy lay on his bed staring at a picture. His eyes moved to stare at Albus, then returned to the picture on his nightstand. 

_I’ve got my work cut out for me._

He glanced at the picture on the nightstand. He didn’t need to; Neville’s state already told him who it was, but he felt he should at least address her. 

_I do hope you appreciate this._

Albus looked around the room, and, in the absence of a chair, created his own. 

“It’s just as I said,” Augusta said from the doorway. “He doesn’t move. Just lies there, staring at a picture of that rotten little girl.” 

If looks could’ve killed, Augusta would’ve dropped dead by her grandson’s hand. Albus personally didn’t condone the dirty look, but he was still glad to see that Neville wasn’t completely catatonic. 

“Rose was many things, Augusta, but I wouldn’t describe her as ‘rotten’.” He turned his attention back to Neville. “Nor, I suspect, would Neville.” 

Albus couldn’t help but notice the irony of Rose trying to kill the champions three times, nearly succeeding with Neville on all three attempts, only to have him mourn her death. Although “mourn” didn’t do the current situation justice. If Neville had needed to eat, Albus suspected he’d have died days ago from starvation. 

“She’s just a girl!” Augusta snapped. She reached for the picture. 

Faster than Albus’s eyes could track, Neville’s hand lashed out and grabbed his gran’s wrist with perfect accuracy. His vacant stare was now fixed on his gran. No matter how she struggled, Neville didn’t release her until she yanked her hand away. 

“See what I mean? Disrespectful. If his parents could–” 

“Augusta, I’ve got quite a craving for some tea and biscuits,” Albus said, his cheerful demeanor hiding his rage. “Would you be so kind as to put the kettle on?” 

“Right away.” Augusta, never one to allow her manners to escape her, ran out of the room. Albus closed the door behind her the moment she was gone, then walked around Neville’s bed and sat beside him. 

“I’ve seen many faces of Rose, but my favorite was the one she wore around you. I can only guess as to how she felt, but I suspect she didn’t want you to think badly of her.” He leaned in closer. “And if your parents could see you now, Neville, they’d understand. Losing a friend is never easy, especially someone so dear to you.” 

He patted Neville on the shoulder, then rose from the bed. 

“I was nothing before I met her.” 

It was such a small sound that broke the quiet that Albus almost missed it. He turned back and smiled at Neville, who seemed just a little more alert. His face looked as if he’d just awoken from a horrible nightmare, one that would’ve earned a small child an invitation into his parents’ bed. 

“She did more than just give you the strength to carry on without her, Neville, she showed you that the strength was inside you the whole time. It’s still there and you’re going to need it to survive this.” 

Neville looked at the picture of Rose one last time, then slowly sat himself up. 

“You’ve lost someone?” Neville asked. 

“More people than I care to remember, among them, Rose.” 

“Does it ever get any easier?” 

Albus wanted to reassure him, but he knew better. Neville wanted the truth and a lie wasn’t going to do him any favors. 

“No, but you will learn to live with the loss. Never be afraid to stop thinking about her, because you will never truly forget her. But you will move forward.” 

Neville nodded slowly, still looking as if he were asleep. 

“I’m not ready to move forward yet.” 

“You don’t have to be just yet. In your own time, Neville.” 

Albus made his way back downstairs, and joined Augusta for tea. They made small talk for some time, then Albus excused himself to leave. 

“I think I’ll return in a week to see how he’s doing, if it’s not too much of an imposition.” 

“Why the sudden interest in him? You’ve got far bigger problems than one boy.” 

Albus had had the same conversation with most of his staff, although not always about Neville. He knew the answer; he’d nearly perfected it after the annual meetings with his heads of house. 

“I learned from watching Rose that one person can make all the difference. It wasn’t until last year that this truly sank in. Until then, I’d always had to restrain her for some reason or another. Whether because she had to keep her head down or to keep her anger in check, she was never allowed to be herself. Then I saw what she could truly accomplish when she put her mind to it. That’s when I understood just how amazing one person can be.” 

“Why him?” 

“You saw what he did last year,” Albus replied. “After we agreed that he didn’t stand a chance, I dare say we were proven wrong, and despite her bad attitude, Rose was proven right. I want to make it up to him, as my last favor to her.” 

He could tell by looking at Augusta that she didn’t understand, but he hadn’t expected her to. 

* * *

Hermione sat on a swing in a park not far from her house. Not only did she hate spending time in her house, but she’d been joined by another guest earlier that morning. 

Taltria sat beside her on another swing. The Nimblewright had shown up that morning out of the blue, having “ran away from home” and needing “a place to crash”. 

“Ready to hear my story?” Taltria asked. 

“Go for it,” Hermione said. She didn’t need a rush of information, but it helped keep her mind off the empty guest room at her house. 

“Dumbledorable is collecting Lord Skyeyes’s friends.” 

“Lord Skyeyes?” 

“Harry. After how well he worked with Malfoy, even after everything that happened between them last year, Alavel thought he deserved a nickname that he didn’t despise.” 

“Oh.” 

“Anyway—” 

“Hold on, did you call Professor Dumbledore ‘Dumbledorable’?” 

“Sure. Anyway, he’s gathering up Lord Skyeyes’s friends and taking them to a safe place. He wants them all moved by the end of next week. The Weasleys are already there, Lady Princess moved this morning, but Lady Moon refuses to go.” 

_That explains why Taltria’s here._

“Lord Skyeyes is the tricky one; we’ll have to move him under cover of darkness, although Professor Dumbledore is putting it off as long as he can.” 

Even as she thought about Taltria’s presence, Hermione’s mind was already at work devising several solutions to the problem of moving Harry. Once she took the time to slow down and regain control of her thoughts, she realized that a few of them were no longer possible. She shifted back to thinking about her friends, counting them off one by one. 

_That’s six, Neville’s seven… there are eight of us. Who am I forgetting?_

The answer hit her and she slumped in her swing. 

“Forget she’s gone?” 

Hermione nodded sullenly, wondering how Rose always managed to stay happy, despite constantly being sad. 

“It doesn’t go away all at once,” a new voice said. “You’ve got to take it a day at a time.” 

Sirius, Harry, and Alavel walked onto the playground, looking just as cheerful as Hermione felt. Taltria relinquished her seat for Harry, who sat down beside Hermione and tried to smile. 

“How’s your summer been?” Harry asked. 

“Miserable. Yours?” 

“Have you read the _Daily Prophet_?” 

“Why? Did they publish something worth reading?” 

Harry took a piece of parchment from his pocket and handed it to Hermione. 

Hermione frowned, wondering what they could have written that Harry thought he should hand-deliver it. As it turned out, it was about Rose. She clutched the article tighter as she read it. Her anger reached such new lengths that she could smell something burning. 

“Lady Brain, you’ve set the paper on fire,” Alavel informed her. 

Hermione looked down at her hand and saw the edges of the paper smoldering as an orange wave crept across it. 

“I’m sorry,” she said to Harry as she suffocated the flame just as easily. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Sirius said. “That’s all it’s good for anyway.” 

“ _Gromphun_ right, it is,” Hermione said. “I can’t believe they’re claiming that Rose killed herself! She’s not mad! They might as well say Luna’s mad, or Neville’s mad, or I’m mad! We’re just different! Not everyone has to conform to some standard set forth by the wealthiest in the kingdom! Some people are just different! How dare they claim she’s disturbed just because she doesn’t act like everyone else! Who gave them the right to decide that?!” 

Hermione was thankful that no one answered any of her questions or tried to calm her down. She wanted to yell, and scream, and punch Fudge in his stupid, bureaucratic face! Or set him on fire! Or both! 

Once she calmed down again, she sat in silence, listening to her own echoes. She gripped the chains of her swing until her knuckles turned white and her hands were sore. They wouldn’t get away with it. She’d see to it that whoever wrote that paid for it dearly. 

“Lady Brain, this is only the beginning,” Alavel said, handing her a magazine. “They will be corrected and reprimanded for their wrongdoings, but until such time, I believe this may cheer you up.” 

Hermione took the copy of the _Quibbler_ Alavel handed her and smiled. Rose smiled back at her from the front cover, surrounded by the words “Gone, but Never Forgotten”. There wasn’t any of the usual _Quibbler_ material; it was only about Rose. How she’d lived, stories from her world that they disguised as a story she’d written, and her unfortunate demise. 

“That’s more like it,” Hermione said, smiling as she read the magazine cover to cover. “Leave it to the _Quibbler_ to get the facts straight.” 

“Bet you never thought you’d say that,” Taltria said cheerfully. 

“Never in a thousand years.” She handed it back to Alavel, but he motioned for her to keep it. 

“Lady Moon wanted you to have it,” Alavel said. “As her gift to you.” 

Hermione smiled and reached inside her pocket for the _condition conch_ so she could thank Luna. “I’ll tell her–” 

Hermione’s heart sank, and she let her arm drop at her side. 

“Aren’t there runes or something we can use to talk to each other like Rose did?” Harry asked. 

“Not really. You’d have to send the message over some sort of medium. Although, there are linked runes, so maybe… I mean, there are runes that can draw other runes, although those are experimental or horribly basic. If you could trigger one to relay a voice… but then how to get it inside their head?” 

“Perhaps Lady Moon knows a way,” Alavel said. 

“I’ll have to ask her next I see her.” 

Her thoughts drifted back to Luna. She couldn’t help but feel thankful that Luna had never learned why she was supposed to have left. Knowing that her mum would’ve been back, then having that ripped away from her would’ve crushed her. The girl wasn’t too stable as she was. 

Hermione still had trouble moving on, but she knew Luna and Neville would have it worse. Rose was her best friend, but Luna saw her as an older sister, and Neville had fallen for her. 

As always happened when she thought of her friends, her thoughts returned to Ron. It was the start of August, and he’d written to her every week. Only once had she found the strength to write him back. 

Hermione flinched when she felt Harry’s hand on her shoulder. She smiled at him nonetheless, his kindness chasing away the cold that had settled in. 

“It’s alright,” he said. 

Harry dropped his hand after a moment, but Hermione still smiled at him. 

Her smile turned to a frown when she saw frost covering the ground. 

“It can’t be,” Hermione breathed, standing up from her swing. She turned to Sirius, but he was on the ground, raving about something she couldn’t understand. Taltria tended to Sirius. Alavel moved to Harry’s side, who was wincing and holding a hand to his head. 

“Get them out of here,” Hermione said, looking around for the Dementor she knew was coming. 

“We won’t leave without you,” Taltria said. 

“Yes, you will,” Hermione said. “I’ll be alright.” 

The Dementor floated into view, bringing a wave of frost with it. For a moment, Hermione wanted to run and hide, but she stood tall, knowing that it couldn’t hurt her. It couldn’t even see her. 

Harry stood up beside her, his wand in hand. 

“Put that away,” she said. “If you cast a patronus, you’ll only get in trouble.” 

“I’m not standing by while you run in,” Harry shot back. “Not again. Besides, you can’t cast a patronus!” 

“Both of you calm down,” Alavel said. “You don’t know why it’s here. Attacking it at all could potentially interfere with the Ministry, and then you will get in trouble.” 

Hermione noticed that Alavel was glancing around them, but not fixating on the Dementor like they were. 

“You can’t see it, can you?” Hermione asked. “You’re not magical.” 

“You are correct,” Alavel said, supporting Sirius as they began to move away. “Come along. We–” 

“It’s getting closer,” Harry said. “It sees us.” He took Hermione’s arm. “Alavel’s right; we should go.” 

Hermione took one last glance at the Dementor, then followed her friends. They moved at a quick trot, trying not to draw attention to themselves. Hermione glanced back at the Dementor and saw that it was still following them. 

They reached a field before long, away from other people. Hermione stopped running and turned around to face the faceless demon. 

“Hermione, come on!” Harry called after her. 

“No. I’m taking a stand right here.” 

Harry ran back to her and grabbed her arm, but she shrugged him off. 

“Don’t you see? It’s never going to stop. They’re sending Dementors after us. Dementors! There’s no one else around, and it’s still following us. The Ministry’s trying to keep us quiet. They’re destroying Professor Dumbledore already. It’s never going to stop until we stop it.” 

“We’re not Rose,” Harry protested. 

“No, we’re not,” Hermione replied. “But it’s still up to us.” 

Hermione thought of Rose. She thought of the World Cup, and what she’d lost at it. She thought back to watching Ron nearly kill himself on the first task, of the horrors her own magic had created over the past year. Most of all, she thought of her friends. They were being targeted by the people in charge because they knew the truth. 

“Why?” 

Hermione turned back to Harry. Her friend. They’d hardly spoken in a year, but still her friend. She had little doubt that if she ran off, the Dementor would stay with Harry. There was no one in the field apart from them. Harry couldn’t use magic outside of school without giving the Ministry something to use against him; Taltria and Alavel couldn’t see it; Sirius was dealing with post-traumatic stress over seeing a Dementor. That left her. 

“Because if we don’t fix it, no one else will.” 

Hermione turned back to the Dementor and began running through calculations. Numbers and equations unfolded for her inside her mind, opening it up to new possibilities. Fear of losing her mind soon joined them, but she had a way to fend it off. 

Thoughts of Rose filled Hermione’s head. Her crimson hair, her annoying smile, the way she’d talked long after everyone had stopped listening. She remembered the way Rose would bounce on her feet when she was excited, how she loved to skip through the corridors, how proud she’d be of her newest invention. A pit in her stomach threatened to consume her in grief, but Hermione held on tightly to the joy Rose had once brought her. 

As she approached the Dementor, Hermione let her mind slip back to the Yule Ball, the last time they’d all been together and happy. She let the euphoria return to her, allowing it to fill her body with warmth to ward off the cold of the Dementor. 

Her hand floated up as if it were a feather on the breeze. Light pulsated up her arm and flowed from her hand as it reached the top of its arc. The light extended out of her arm, taking shape as it left her body. 

The silver otter flew playfully around her, thawing the grass as it swam through the air. Hermione smiled back at it as it beckoned her to join it in its dance of joy. Then it turned its sights to the Dementor and flew headlong at it. 

The Dementor froze for a moment, then flew into the air. The otter chased after it for a moment, then turned back to Hermione. She smiled at it one last time before the patronus vanished. 

“That was brilliant!” Harry exclaimed. 

“It was risky,” Alavel said, coming up behind them. “If someone had seen you–” 

“We’re fine,” Sirius said. “We’re practically in the middle of nowhere.” 

“You could’ve helped me keep an eye out,” Taltria told her brother. 

Hermione thought for a moment, tilting her head while she did. “I… I guess Harry could’ve…” 

When Hermione brought her head upright, she found the world kept turning. She held her hand to her head and felt sweat on her forehead. She stumbled back, the sounds of the surrounding world blocked out by her own heartbeat. 

“Crab apples.” 

Her feet gave out from under her, and Hermione fell to the ground as a black mist set in. 

* * *

Albus arrived back at the Longbottom residence a week later. After exchanging pleasantries with Augusta, he inquired after Neville, and found that his previous visit had indeed helped. 

“He’s not lying in bed anymore, although I wouldn’t exactly say his new hobby is better.” 

Albus walked through the quiet house, noting the pictures on the wall. He nodded his head respectfully to one of Frank and Alice Longbottom as he walked past. 

“Would you like some tea or biscuits?” Augusta asked as they made their way into the kitchen. 

“I’ll pass on both, but thank you very much for the offer,” Albus replied. 

The kitchen had a glass door to the backyard, through which Albus could see Neville practicing. Some part of Albus was glad to see Neville up and about, especially after his last visit. Another part of him wished Neville would find a different hobby, one that didn’t involve such danger. The boy liked Herbology; perhaps he could take up gardening instead of swordplay. 

“He’s been at it since I woke up,” Augusta said, following his gaze. “Doesn’t want to come in and eat, or write letters to his friends, or try gardening again. Just stays out there and swings that awful sword around.” 

Albus watched Neville practice for another minute, figuring out the pattern of his strikes as he did. Near the end of the minute, Neville switched it up, practicing a different set of maneuvers. As Albus watched, he remembered Augusta’s words: “He’s been at it since I woke up.” Watching Neville, Albus wouldn’t have thought he’d been practicing for hours, but for mere minutes. Neville showed no signs of being tired, nor of even slowing down. 

“Why don’t we go and check on him?” Albus asked. 

He opened the sliding glass door and walked out into the backyard. It was a lovely day, although he had a sneaking suspicion that Neville would’ve been practicing in the pouring rain had he needed to. 

“Good afternoon, Neville.” 

“Good afternoon, Professor Dumbledore,” Neville said without missing a beat of his recitation. 

Neville sliced through his invisible opponent, drew back, stabbed, then drew back again, holding his sword at the ready. After a few seconds, he relaxed and allowed his arms to drop at his sides. 

“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Albus said, hoping to get some conversation out of him. 

“I suppose.” 

“Mind your manners!” 

Albus glanced back and saw that there was a red-faced woman to match the hissing sound he’d just heard. 

“I wasn’t aware that I was forgetting them,” Neville replied, returning to his practice. 

“Do be respectful,” Albus said, a little more forcefully. 

Neville stopped and stared at him for a moment, then turned to his gran. “Sorry.” 

Without waiting for a reply from his gran, Neville returned to his practice. 

“Is all of this really necessary?” Albus asked. 

“Yes,” Neville replied. “I barely survived the Triwizard Tournament challenges that Rose designed. If Voldemort can beat her, then I’ve got a long way to go before I’m ready to beat him.” 

“Don’t you dare use that name in this house!” Augusta hissed. “What if someone hears you?” 

“So?” Neville asked as he gutted another imaginary opponent. “I need to work harder so I can take him and Lestrange down.” 

Albus wanted to tell Neville that there was something else going on, even if Albus didn’t know what it was. He knew Rose’s friends had known her best, and they all agreed that there was something wrong with how Rose died. It was as if she’d given up. Even her last words to Harry had made out like she knew she was going to die. 

_Don’t forget to bring me with you._

How had she known she’d be unable to make the journey herself? With all of her gifts, there must’ve been something she could’ve done against Voldemort. Why not turn him to stone or dust? Albus had seen her do both before. Most importantly, what part did her friend in the Chamber of Secrets play in her apparent death? 

Albus didn’t dare tell Neville about any of it. On his last visit, Neville had been bedridden, paralyzed with grief. He’d refused to move or speak with anyone, still deep in mourning the loss of his friend. Albus couldn’t get his hopes up like that, no matter what his suspicions were. 

“Do you think you can beat them?” Albus asked. 

“Never go into a battle thinking you’re going to win,” Neville recited. “Instead, go in fighting like you’re going to lose. You’ll try harder.” 

“Rose?” 

“Taltria, after she and Alavel beat me just before the first task.” 

“Your opponents will have magic.” 

“No, they’ll have spells that they can only cast so fast. I’ve just got to be faster.” He emphasized the last sentence with a quick jab of his sword. “Shadow’s the best, and she never casts spells either. I don’t need magic to beat them.” 

“Let’s see how you’re doing then,” Albus said, an idea forming in his head. 

He waited for Neville to acknowledge him before continuing. Sure enough, the boy slowly stopped swinging his sword and turned to face Albus. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean I’ll throw a spell at you, and we’ll see if you can block it,” Albus replied. “I’ve seen you do it before, so I know the sword can.” 

What Albus didn’t tell Neville was that he had no intention of waiting for Neville to be ready. He didn’t normally like to discourage students, but if Neville continued on his path, he’d get himself killed. Within the span of a second, Albus drew his wand and fired a stunner at Neville. Within that same second, Neville snapped the Sword of Gryffindor up and deflected the spell onto the ground. 

Neville crouched down, studying every aspect of Albus, but Albus could see that he was still listening for signs of an attack from a different angle. Albus had seen veteran Aurors less aware of their surroundings. 

“Both of you stop it!” Augusta shouted, “or I’ll throw you both out onto the street!” 

Albus slowly returned his wand to his cloak, watching Neville as closely as Neville watched him. Neville waited for a moment before standing up straight and returning the Sword of Gryffindor to his glove. 

“I would like to apologize, Neville.” 

Neville frowned at him, clearly confused by his remark. 

“What for?” 

“When Rose told me she’d make sure you were ready for the tasks, I didn’t believe her. I, like many at the time, thought you’d be ill-prepared and die in the tournament. After seeing you keep up and outperform the other students, all of whom were far older and more experienced than you, I admit I was surprised. You never excelled so much that I thought you were cheating, but enough to show that you’d been working hard.” He offered his hand to Neville. “It’s my privilege to call you both my students.” 

Neville reached out and shook Albus’s hand, still clearly expecting an attack at any moment. 

_Congratulations, Rose, you’ve made him almost as paranoid as Alastor._

_What do you mean ‘almost’?_ he heard Rose’s voice exclaim. 

“Thank you, Professor,” Neville said. 

“Thank you, Neville,” he replied. “Know that you are not the only one fighting back, despite being more qualified than many Aurors in that regard.” 

Albus lowered his hand, then turned to Augusta. “On that note, I’d like to invite you both to join me. There’s a lot we need to discuss.” 


	2. Logical Confusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the PCs see Dumbledore's Super Secret Clubhouse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** Through confusion, I will remind everyone that J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter.

After the incident the previous day, Hermione’s parents had been against letting her return to Hogwarts. Fortunately for Hermione, Taltria and Alavel had stuck up for her, and Alavel had a way of talking to adults that convinced them to listen. Unfortunately, her parents had still insisted on accompanying her and Taltria part way to Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Hermione wasn’t sure what had been worse: the car ride with her parents, or the circuitous path she’d walked on foot that had followed. Fortunately, Crookshanks didn’t need to be carried. 

Looking at the surrounding houses, she noticed that they jumped from 11 to 13 without any sign of 12. 

“How do we get in if it’s hidden?” she asked. 

“‘How do we get in?’ ‘Why take the same street three times?’ ‘Why not just apparate there?’” Taltria mimicked her questions in an obnoxious voice that made Hermione want to hit her, even though she knew it would do her no good. “Can’t you stop asking questions and just wait?” 

“No,” Hermione huffed. “If I stop asking questions, I might stop thinking. I’m proud of how much I think, and I wouldn’t want to dull the only good quality I’ve got.” 

Taltria gave Hermione a familiar smirk, and Hermione felt the pain inside with which she’d grown all too familiar. 

“You’ll have to learn to live with that.” 

“Let’s just go.” 

Hermione’s attention returned to the houses, and she pondered how the mechanism worked. Perhaps it was some sort of password? She hoped it wasn’t, otherwise it would be all too easy for Death Eaters to find it. Perhaps only certain people could access it. That seemed safer to her, but then how was she supposed to? Who decided which people got in? 

She looked at Taltria, who was tapping the side of her head. Hermione got the message and activated _doublespeak_. Even though no one could properly understand them, Taltria still leaned in and whispered in Hermione’s ear. 

“Don’t repeat any of what I’m about to tell you,” she whispered. “Nor ask any questions about it.” 

“No promises.” 

“Then go home,” Taltria said, standing up straight again. “If you can’t keep the secret, you can’t get in.” 

Hermione immediately understood the severity of the situation and nodded to show Taltria that she did. 

Taltria leaned in again, and whispered, “ _The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is at Number 12, Grimmauld Place_.” 

It took Hermione only a second to understand the true meaning of the secret. The building was warded by the Fidelius Charm, which meant only people who knew the secret could access it. 

“Stand back,” Taltria said, approaching the gap between 11 and 13, “and focus on what I just told you.” 

Hermione watched the Nimblewright move forward, fascinated to see new magic working in front of her. Her mind still reeled with different possibilities, but she remained quiet as she’d been told. 

Before her eyes, houses 11 and 13 separated. It was as if they served as guardians for Number 12, and only moved aside when Taltria approached. A quick glance around told her that no one else could see it, even though she could see it quite clearly. How’d the magic known to include her? How did it work? Was it like the Room of Requirement? She figured it had to be similar magic, although on further thought, she realized the Room of Requirement probably didn’t exist until someone called upon it. 

“Brain!” 

Hermione looked up when Taltria called her over to the front door. The house wasn’t terribly big, but big enough to be impressive. It was no mansion, but certainly on the higher end of houses. At least, it must’ve been when it was new. Now it looked to be a dying, decrepit house. 

Hermione felt anxious as she went inside, eager to see a proper magic house. The only one she’d seen so far had been the Weasley’s house, which was exciting on its own, but this was a higher end house. What would it be like? Would there be house-elves? Animated statues? Why didn’t Mrs. Weasley make one? 

_She must like doing everything on her own,_ Hermione thought as she walked inside. 

The house looked better inside than out, although it still felt abandoned. Hermione couldn’t get over the feeling that she wasn’t supposed to be there, but Sally-Anne’s presence did something to cheer her up. 

“There you two are,” Sally-Anne said as Hermione walked through the door. “We were starting to worry.” 

“Nothing to worry about, Lady Princess,” Taltria said as Hermione hugged her friend. “I had Lady Brain with me the entire time, so I was never in any danger.” 

“I was plenty worried about both of you,” Sally-Anne said. “Especially after hearing about what happened yesterday. To think, a Dementor came after you unprovoked.” 

“I’m sure we’ve provoked the Ministry enough over the past few months,” Hermione said. “Who else is here?” 

“Professor Dumbledore’s fetching Neville now, Harry’s coming tonight with half the Order by his side, Ron and Ginny are upstairs, and Luna’s still refusing to join us.” 

Hermione forgot all about being in a new place, concentrating instead on the phrase “Ron and Ginny are upstairs.” She wasn’t sure if she was ready to face Ron. 

“What’s going on with you and Ron?” Sally-Anne whispered. 

For a moment, Hermione thought she could get away with saying nothing. After that moment passed, she remembered to whom she was speaking and thought better of it. 

“I’ve hardly written him all summer,” Hermione replied. “He’s written me about once a week.” 

Sally-Anne gave her the same warm smile Alex used to give her in her first year. “It’s alright now. No harm done.” She frowned. “Thinking about it, some harm, but none to Ron.” 

“Then who—” Hermione started to ask as Sally-Anne led her into the dining room. 

Her question was answered shortly after arriving. While Professors Lupin and Moody were cheerful, Mrs. Weasley glared at her as if she were Voldemort himself. 

Hermione greeted the Weasley Matriarch, but received nothing but a cold shoulder and miserable excuse to get away from Hermione. 

“Professor Lupin, is she cross at me for something I don’t know about?” 

“Call me ‘Remus’, and I don’t know. She was fine a moment ago.” 

“As I was saying,” Sally-Anne whispered, “no harm to Ron.” 

“Make yourself at home, Lady Brain!” Taltria exclaimed, interrupting their conversation. “Be sure to say ‘hi’ to Severus, he’s missed you horribly.” 

Hermione looked down the table to where Professor Snape was sitting. He glowered at her when he saw her looking at him. 

“More than I can possibly express,” he said in the same monotone voice he always used. 

“Same,” Hermione said dryly. 

“Hermione!” Mr. Weasley greeted her warmly, in stark contrast to his wife. “With all the hustle and bustle, I didn’t realize you’d arrived.” 

“What’s going on?” she asked. 

“Oh, this and that.” 

“I’ll explain later,” Sally-Anne whispered, “because I know they won’t.” 

“Is it something to do with whatever the Order of the Phoenix is?” 

Hermione waited for an answer, but the adults ignored her. 

“I’ll explain later,” Sally-Anne repeated. “The short version is that they think we’re too incompetent to figure out that’s what they’re doing in here every night.” 

“Was that snark?” Hermione asked. 

“Of course not. That would be unladylike.” 

Hermione grinned at Sally-Anne before allowing her friend to escort her down the hall to the stairs. 

“MUDBLOODS! ANOTHER ONE IN—” 

“Good evening to you too, Walburga!” Sally-Anne shouted to be heard over the portrait that had started screaming at them. “I trust you slept well?” 

“Have purebloods got a sixth sense about blood status?” Hermione asked. 

“No, they’re just all inbred so it’s easy to tell,” Taltria said, adding her voice to the shouting. “You should see the family tree in the other room. It grows in on itself.” 

“All of you should be banished from my house immediately!” the portrait screamed. 

“It isn’t your house anymore, Walburga,” Sally-Anne said. “It’s your son’s. If you didn’t want him to inherit it, you should’ve taken him out of the will. Since you didn’t, we can either listen to you and ignore succession in a pureblood family, or be on our way and let us get back to ignoring one another.” 

Walburga grumbled something Hermione couldn’t hear. 

Sally-Anne led Hermione and Taltria up the stairs to the first floor. 

“I love it when Lady Princess does that,” Taltria said, wrapping her arms around Sally-Anne. 

Sally-Anne smiled, but removed Taltria’s arms from around her. 

“Thank you for your kindness, Taltria, but there’s no need.” 

“Who owns the house now?” Hermione asked, looking around and trying to place the name “Grimmauld Place”. 

“Sirius, although he hates it here.” Sally-Anne nodded down the corridor. “Come on; our room is this way.” 

“You seem to have settled in well.” 

“Anything I can do to take my mind off Harry. I’m still worried about him.” 

“He’s got Alavel with him,” Taltria said. “Trust me, the only way Voldemort’s getting through my brother is by ripping him apart, and that’s not as easy as you might think.” 

* * *

Harry put the last of his belongings in his pack. He smiled at the photos of his parents before putting them away. 

“I’ll make you proud,” he promised. “And I’ll get revenge on him for taking you away.” 

He slung his pack over his shoulder. Only his wand and broom remained in his hands. Harry put his wand in his pocket, then practiced drawing it without looking until he was convinced he was fast enough. 

“You won’t need that,” Alavel said from the doorway. “Remember, any–” 

“‘Any use of magic will give the Ministry the ammunition it so desperately desires’,” Harry recited. “I haven’t forgotten the lectures or drills.” 

Even though he knew Alavel was right, Harry hated feeling powerless. He’d spent the summer looking over his shoulder, ready to spring into action, but everyone kept reminding him that he shouldn’t. 

“The sooner I get back to Hogwarts, the better.” 

“If you insist,” Alavel said. “You can still have a normal life, if you so choose.” 

Harry shook his head. They both knew he could never be normal, not with Voldemort alive. Harry thought back with sadness on the past year. Right up until the bitter end, it’d been amazing. 

“On the bright side of things, Quidditch starts back up this year.” 

Harry grinned at the thought of flying high above a cheering crowd. He had little doubt that Angelina would be every bit as strict as Wood had been, but there was some fun in it. Besides, it made them the best. They just had to find someone just as good at playing Keeper as Wood had been. 

“Thanks, Alavel,” Harry said. “For everything.” 

“It has been a pleasure, Lord Skyeyes.” 

“Ready to go, you two?” Sirius asked, appearing at Harry’s door. 

“Ready,” Harry said. “Not afraid of heights, are you, Alavel?” 

“Not in the slightest, Lord Skyeyes, but I appreciate the concern.” Alavel stood still for a moment. He was in his true form, so Harry couldn’t tell what he was doing. He could’ve fallen asleep for all Harry knew. 

“Taltria says they’ll be here in 2 minutes,” Alavel informed them. 

No sooner did he say it, than there was a knock at the door. Sirius nodded to them, and they moved to the window. Sirius himself went to the door. 

“Who is it?” 

“ _Bombarda!_ ” 

Alavel moved like lightning, darting from the window to the door. He tackled Sirius aside a second before the door exploded. 

Harry picked up the movement of four people as the dust settled. He saw the first of them push his way into the flat. 

They all wore black cloaks and masks, bringing Harry back to the graveyard. The Death Eater in front spotted Harry and aimed his wand. Harry instinctively went for his wand, but before he could fire, Alavel knocked the man’s feet out from under him. 

Alavel lept clear over the next Death Eater as he stepped into the flat. A red flash lit up the room as Sirius took out that one. He was dragged back by his companions while Alavel struck the first with the flat of his blade. 

Harry pulled out his invisibility cloak and threw it over himself, just as Alavel had drilled him dozens of times. As much as he wanted to help, he knew it would only make things worse. 

The final two Death Eaters shoved their way into the flat, but Alavel and Sirius were waiting. Sirius fired another stunner, which knocked down one, while Alavel slapped the other with the flat of both his swords. 

The first Death Eater that Sirius had stunned recovered and dragged the others back. They each recovered and ran for it, leaving the others to fend for themselves. 

Sirius watched them run, then looked down at his destroyed door. 

“The land lord’s not gonna like that,” he muttered. “Harry, are you alright?” 

Harry pulled off the cloak and shoved it back in this bag. 

“I’m okay,” he said. 

Sirius turned to Alavel and started laughing. “Where’d you learn a move like that?” 

“A simple maneuver of the Tiger Claw martial discipline,” Alavel replied. He folded his swords back into his arms. “Taltria and I both have training as Swordsages.” 

Sirius patted Alavel on the back. “Who needs magic when we’ve got you?” 

“You are much too kind. I was merely doing my part.” He froze for a moment. “Taltria has been informed of the situation. Her party is just arriving, and will be up shortly.” 

Compared to the events that came before it, the trip to Grimmauld Place was a breeze. Harry flew with Alavel, surrounded by a guard of four fliers. Taltria rode with Remus and kept an eye out for trouble. They had placed a disillusionment charm on Harry, making it appear that only Alavel was on his broom. 

“I suppose the cloak would fly off!” he called to Alavel when he finally reasoned it out. 

“Quiet, Lord Skyeyes! No one must know you’re with us!” 

Harry remained quiet as they flew over London. It was breath taking to see the city from above at night. A sea of lights flew by below them as they rode closer to their destination. 

After a series of twists and turns, they finally landed in front of the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. 

Harry found that two people in particular were patiently awaiting his arrival. 

“Are you alright?” Sally-Anne asked. 

“Are you hungry?” Mrs. Weasley added. “There’s food in the kitchen if you like. They’ll be starting soon, but there’s still time.” 

The two rushed him when he arrived, both attempting to outdo the other one at hugging Harry. 

“Did everything go alright? Were there problems?” Sally-Anne didn’t wait for an answer from Harry. “Alavel, Taltria, report!” 

On her command, both Nimblewrights stood at attention. 

“A minor incursion at the flat, but nothing to worry about, Lady Princess,” Alavel replied. 

“I’m fine.” Harry didn’t know if the cracking he heard was the old house or his ribs. “Please, let go!” 

Sally-Anne and Mrs. Weasley released him, and he gasped for air. 

“I’m sorry.” Sally-Anne turned pink for just a second. “First that Dementor, now this. Is everyone else alright?” 

“Me and Alavel handled it,” Sirius said, grinning at Alavel. 

“We were unable to apprehend the attackers, but Lord Skyeyes wasn’t harmed.” 

“Glad to see you all in one piece,” Professor Dumbledore said. “Truly wonderful, but we must get started.” 

Harry looked to Sally-Anne for an explanation, but she nodded up the stairs. She led him away from them as Alavel and Sirius went to the other room with the rest of the adults. 

The stairs creaked under his weight. It startled him at first, but after a moment, he adjusted to and ignored it. Instead, he took in what he could of his surroundings. The house was worn out and falling apart, although he was sure the feeling it was about to collapse was just paranoia. It looked like someone had tried repairing it, but gave up part way. 

He found the Weasley children huddled around at the top of the stairs. Harry couldn’t tell what they were crowded around, but he had a feeling it was something to do with the meeting downstairs. 

“What’s going on?” Harry asked. 

“Professor Dumbledore’s got this group called the Order of the Phoenix he started to fight Voldemort.” 

The Weasleys all cringed. 

“The Weasleys listen in on every meeting, Hermione’s reading in her room, and Neville’s off somewhere, practicing killing people.” 

“So we’re not allowed in the meetings?” Harry asked. 

“No, we’re not, because we’re children, and not remotely ready to fight trained killers. Taltria’s kept us all informed, even if we can’t participate.” 

“I saw him come back to life! I’ve got a list of names of all the Death Eaters! Why can’t—” 

“What did you do when you were in that graveyard? Did you fight back?” 

“I could’ve!” 

“And you would’ve died, and then what? What good would that have done anyone? Would your parents really want you to throw your life away like that? Would Rose?” 

“Rose would—” 

“No, she wouldn’t. I still remember her holding her boot to your chest and pressing a sword to your throat.” 

“But—” 

“According to Professor Dumbledore, Alavel’s been talking to him about our involvement. He knows we’ll get involved anyway, so he argued we might as well have some involvement.” 

Harry would’ve found it hard to believe that Alavel would stand up for him a year ago, but now he knew better. Alavel always had his back. 

“Come on,” Sally-Anne said. “Let’s get you situated. We can at least pretend you’re normal for a moment, can’t we?” 

Harry’s room was just as unimpressive as the rest of the house. Paint peeled from the walls, cracks and cobwebs littered the ceiling, and his bed looked worn out. Ron’s bed was next to his, easily identifiable by the Quidditch posters over the bed. Neville’s was down one from there, although he hadn’t made himself as at home as Ron had. The only personal effect of Neville’s was a picture of Rose on his nightstand. 

“I know it’s not much, but it’s only for a few days,” Sally-Anne said. 

Harry sensed something else moving and turned towards the hallway. 

“It’s alright. It’s probably just Kreacher with some food.” 

“What?” 

Harry looked out the hallway and saw a house-elf stalking towards them. It was worn out, wrinkled, and looked as enthusiastic to be there as Professor Snape always did during class. 

Sally-Anne pulled Harry aside to allow the Kreacher to enter the bedroom. It muttered something about degradation as it set the tray down on Harry’s bed. 

“Will that be all?” Defiance and indignation adorned its eyes as it glared at Sally-Anne. 

Sally-Anne’s expression was the opposite. She smiled pleasantly at the house-elf. 

“Thank you, Kreacher. You’ve been a wonderful help. You may go.” 

Kreacher stalked off, grumbling to himself. As he walked out of the room, Harry heard him mutter another word that he almost thought he misheard. 

“What did you just call her?” Harry shouted at the elf. 

“There’s no need to shout.” Sally-Anne’s smile turned to a frown, but her voice didn’t change from its neutral politeness. “Kreacher, would you please answer his question?” She crouched down and put herself as close to eye level as she could. “You’re not in any trouble, we just want to make sure everyone’s clear with one another.” 

Kreacher glared at her defiantly. He didn’t speak a word until given another order. 

“What did you call her?” 

Sirius had arrived upstairs, although Harry didn’t immediately wonder why. He towered over the house-elf, his arms crossed, looking like he was about to hurl the elf across the room. 

Kreacher mumbled something that even Harry couldn’t make out. 

“Louder!” 

“Mudblood.” 

Sirius’s face contorted into a look of fury, and he grabbed the house-elf and shook him. 

“How dare you use that word! I don’t want to hear another–” 

“Enough!” 

Sirius, Harry, and Kreacher all looked to Sally-Anne. She glared not at Kreacher, but at Sirius, and extended her arm with a finger pointing down. 

“Drop him.” 

The only part of Sirius that moved were his hands. They released Kreacher and the house-elf fell to the ground with a small thud. Sally-Anne crouched back down to put herself at eye level once again. 

“Did he hurt you, Kreacher?” 

“Kreacher is not needing pity from a mudblood!” 

Harry and Sirius nearly lost it again, but a glare from Sally-Anne made them back off. 

“It’s not pity, it’s concern, and I respond just as well, if not better, to Sally-Anne, Perks, or Princess. You can even call me ‘girl’ if it’d make you feel better. My boyfriend’s rubbish with words, and even he found something that works for him.” 

Harry watched in shock as Sally-Anne smiled at the thing that had just called her a foul word. 

“Will that be all, girl?” Kreacher asked. 

“It will, Kreacher, thank you.” 

Sally-Anne held a finger up to Sirius and Harry, then waited until Kreacher was out of earshot. The moment he was, she got to her feet. 

“I’m sorry about him,” Sirius said. “He doesn’t–” 

“Noble House of Black?” Sally-Anne’s voice was low and threatening. “What sort of lord of any estate treats his servants like that? You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Sirius Black. That elf has dedicated his life to service of your family, and you repay him with screaming and dropping him on the ground.” 

“Did we not both hear what he called you?” 

“That’s no excuse. You’re the master of this house, and he’s your family’s loyal servant. You of all people should understand what it feels like to dedicate your life to people only to have them turn their backs on you.” 

Sirius and Harry stared at Sally-Anne as she left the room. Harry couldn’t think of anything to say to that. It was Sally-Anne; sweet, kind Sally-Anne, unless you gave her reason to go for your throat. Like he and Neville, she didn’t miss. 

“She’s a handful, that one,” Sirius said. 

“I can still hear you!” 

Sirius closed the door behind him, then sat down beside Harry. They exchanged looks, then both burst out laughing. 

* * *

That night after everyone had left, Alavel took the opportunity to check in with Albus. 

“Alavel. What can I do for you, my mechanical friend?” 

Albus had grown quite fond of Rose’s constructs. Not only did they serve his cause well, they had shown a large capacity for caring for her friends. This put them in a unique position to act as liaisons between her friends and the rest of the order. He finally had an adult to whom teenagers would listen. 

“I wanted to thank you for considering my arguments regarding the students. Fighting them at every turn is something none of us wants.” 

“Indeed not. I’m sure you noticed the boys’ listening device?” 

“I did.” 

Albus chuckled, despite knowing the weight of the situation. “As you said, they’re involved whether I want them to be or not.” His eyes locked onto the flickering fireplace. He watched it as if in a trance, his mind drifting back to the last war. “I still can’t help but feel I’m making a mistake.” 

“You are one man, Albus.” Alavel placed a reassuring hand on Albus’s shoulder. “You’ve got a thousand decisions to make. You’re going to get at least one wrong. Remember, we’re here in case you do. We’ve all agreed to follow you, so no matter what happens, I know we’ll win in the end.” 

During the previous war, Albus had felt that he’d had the weight of the world on his shoulders. Every decision he’d made could’ve won or lost them the war, but this time, it felt as if he had help. Not just Taltria and Alavel, but his staff, his friends. He didn’t have to lead them alone. 

“There was supposed to be a place for Rose at this table,” Albus said to no one in particular. “I’d already started looking for anything Tom had once owned that Rose could’ve used to find him. I figured once we found him, the war would be over. With Rose on our side, he couldn’t hide and amass power. We’d always know when he was coming.” 

Alavel folded his hands behind his back. His face bore his usual neutral expression that Albus couldn’t read. He often found it odd that while he could almost always tell what Rose was thinking, her constructs were a far greater challenge. 

“I don’t suppose she’s still out there,” Albus said. 

“I’d like to continue my silence and suggest that I was hiding something, but I can’t. Taltria and I know Lady Rose isn’t alive anymore. We get no response from her. I’m sorry, Albus, but she is dead.” 

Some part of him still refused to believe it, but in his heart, Albus knew Rose was gone. Something still seemed off about the way she’d died, but it didn’t mean she wasn’t dead. 

“Doesn’t it feel wrong to you?” 

Albus was glad to see Alavel nod his head. 

“Something does feel wrong about it. It feels as if Lady Rose simply gave up, which is quite unlike her.” 

Albus scanned the room for eavesdropping children before continuing. “Might her friend in the Chamber of Secrets have had something to do with this?” 

Alavel followed suit and lowered his voice. “I have no doubt in my mind that it was involved somehow. Unfortunately, I don’t know how.” 

Albus nodded, his hopes dashed a little. 

“I was hoping she told you two everything.” 

“She told us enough, but there’s always a small piece she leaves out. She doesn’t like people to think poorly of her. Not her friends, my sister and I, or you. I believe she was being forced to do something she regretted, and her death may have been the only escape she found.” 

Albus stared into the fireplace for a time, pondering Alavel’s words. 

“Thank you, Alavel. I believe your words have been a great help.” 

* * *

Hermione grumbled and waved her hand over another chunk of the kitchen. The “kitchen” that took up most of the basement. After removing the dust and cobwebs, she moved to another small chunk. 

“‘We’ll do it together’,” she said in a mocking tone. “‘Don’t worry, we’re 17 now, so we can use magic to clean.’ If I’d been paying more attention to those red-headed _gau halaks_ …” 

As part of them staying in the protection of 12 Grimmauld Place, they were required to help tidy up. Being the only one of her friends to be able to use magic without consequences, she’d agreed to work on the kitchen, the largest room in the house. The Twins had promised to help her. 

“In hindsight, I shouldn’t have been trying to read while they were giving us assignments.” 

She heard a scream from upstairs that sounded a lot like Ron. 

“Of course, I could’ve gotten the china cabinet overrun with spiders, so it’s not all bad.” 

She worked her way through the kitchen, then into a small cupboard. Inside, she found worn out blankets and a few trinkets. 

“I hope this is where Kreacher sleeps,” she said, plugging her nose to fight off the smell. “Otherwise…” 

Her eyes scanned over the trinkets, and fell on one in particular. A golden locket with an emerald ’S’ on it that looked a lot like a snake. Her eyes grew wide when she saw it. She picked it up, trying to convince herself she was really seeing it. She undid the clasp, hoping it’d give her some clue, but found it empty. 

“Mudblood!” 

Hermione closed the locket just as Kreacher snatched it out of her hands. 

“Mudbloods is not touching Kreacher’s things!” 

“Where’d you get that?” Hermione asked. 

Kreacher smirked. “Kreacher is not telling!” 

“WHERE’D YOU GET THAT?” Hermione roared. 

All she had to do was envision herself shaking the house-elf, and he was lifted off his feet. 

Several pairs of feet thundered down the stairs to the basement. 

“Hermione! Put him down!” 

Sally-Anne’s voice snapped Hermione out of her rage. Kreacher fell to the floor and covered the locket with his hands. 

“What are you doing?” Sally-Anne snapped. “I expect this from Ron, but you? You’re better than this!” 

“That locket! Where’d he get it?” 

“Why does it matter?” Sally-Anne asked. “It’s just a locket. It probably belonged to an old owner of this house.” She crouched down to meet Kreacher’s gaze. “Are you alright?” 

Kreacher grumbled something in response. 

“Good.” She turned her attention to Hermione. “Hermione, I think you need to rest.” 

“I’m fine!” 

“No, you’re not.” 

Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but caught herself. If she told anyone that Rose had had an identical locket, no one would believe her. No one else had been able to see it. 

“What’s going on?” Sirius asked, making his way downstairs. “Kreacher, if you—” 

“It’s fine,” Sally-Anne said. “Nothing to worry about. Everyone, go back to work.” 

Most of the others left. Ron lingered for a moment, but a glance from Sally-Anne ushered him on his way. That left Sally-Anne, Kreacher, Hermione, and Sirius. 

“What’s Kreacher doing?” Sirius asked, glaring at his house-elf. 

“Mudbloods is stealing from Kreacher!” 

“Open your hands!” 

Kreacher fought to ignore his master’s command, but opened his hands nonetheless. 

“What is that?” Sirius asked. “I’ve never seen that before.” 

“It is being Master Regulus’s,” Kreacher said through clenched teeth. 

“Regulus didn’t wear a locket!” 

“That doesn’t mean he didn’t own one!” Sally-Anne snapped. She turned back to Kreacher and resumed her soothing tone. “Take good care of it, Kreacher. I’m sure Master Regulus would be proud of you. I’m sure this is just one big misunderstanding. You won’t have to worry about anyone taking your things.” 

Kreacher nodded. 

“Yes, Ms. Perks.” 

“Thank you, Kreacher. I’ll talk with Ms. Granger and sort this out.” 

Kreacher nodded again, then Sally-Anne motioned for Hermione to follow her. 

Hermione and Kreacher exchanged glares, then Hermione moved to Sally-Anne’s side. 

“Sirius,” Sally-Anne hissed, “when addressing the staff, you shall reference other members of this house by their titles. It’s _Master_ Regulus to Kreacher, understood?” 

“That’s how you’re opening this?” he asked. 

Sally-Anne didn’t so much as hesitate. “I’m getting to the rest of it. Is that understood?” 

Sirius shrugged. 

“Don’t shrug at me. You’re the master of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, and I’ll make you act like it if it kills me.” 

Sirius gave her a wide-eyed nod. “I believe you.” 

“Good.” Sally-Anne turned to Hermione. “I’ll take over down here. You can work on the drawing room.” 

“The one with the boggart in it?” Hermione asked dryly. 

“Yes. It shouldn’t be a problem for you, Ms. ‘I can cast magic outside of school’.” 

“Fine.” 

Hermione and Sirius walked back upstairs, then Hermione took the stairs up to the first floor. All the while, her mind remained fixated on the locket. Why did it look identical to the locket Rose had fetched for Sylvia? Was it the same one? No, it couldn’t have been. Hermione had watched them seal Rose inside her coffin, and the locket had been there. It wasn’t possible for anyone to have penetrated that coffin. 

With that in mind, Hermione came to the conclusion that it was identical to Rose’s. Why? If it was important to Voldemort, he must’ve had a duplicate made to throw people off the scent of the real one. Two of the Horcruxes had been held by high ranking Death Eaters. It made sense that he’d leave another with a family known for supporting him. 

The thought put Hermione’s mind at ease. She didn’t care much, apart from knowing that Rose’s coffin hadn’t been breached. 

“Ms. Granger.” 

Hermione jumped at Professor Dumbledore’s voice. She turned around and found him standing in the doorway to the drawing room. 

“I just heard the strangest story from Ms. Perks. Something about you and a locket with an ‘S’ on it.” 

“It was nothing,” Hermione said. “I just thought… it was nothing.” 

“Well, if it turns out to be something, I’d love to hear about it.” 

“I’ll be sure to tell you.” 


	3. Not the Same Hogwarts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the PCs return to Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** It may not be the same Hogwarts, and but it's still owned by J.K. Rowling.

“Hello, everyone. I’m Cedric Diggory, the Head Boy, and this is Angelina Johnson, the Head Girl. Welcome to Prefect orientation.” 

Sally-Anne glanced around the cart again. In addition to her and Ron, Max and Hannah were there from Hufflepuff, Terry Boot and Lisa Turpin from Ravenclaw, and (who could know why?) Malfoy and Parkinson from Slytherin. She didn’t understand why Professor Dumbledore had picked those two, although she figured it was the same reason that she’d picked Malfoy for the Quidditch Teams. Professor Dumbledore was giving them the chance to improve themselves. 

She was glad Professor Dumbledore thought like that. Everyone deserved the chance to do the right thing, didn’t they? Sally-Anne resolved to follow through on that philosophy and give them their chance. 

“There are three main duties of a prefect: caring for the first-years, resolving disputes, and being an extra set of eyes for your head of house. Each of these are equally important, so be sure to follow through on all of them.” 

Ron listened and took everything in. Being a prefect was a chance to prove himself. Even if Hermione and Neville were allowed to sit in on Order meetings, _he’d_ been chosen as a prefect. Even _Percy_ had said he was proud. Along with some Ministry propaganda that Ron had ignored. 

Something else that Ron noted was Cedric and Angelina were both Quidditch captains. That meant he’d have no problem handling being on the Quidditch team when the time came. Tryouts were in a few weeks, and he’d finally convinced his parents to let him bring one of the brooms to practice. If he practiced and worked hard at it, he knew he’d be fine. 

“One last thing,” Cedric said at the end of orientation. “Many of you are aware of the dispute between Professor Dumbledore and Minister Fudge. Even though Professor Dumbledore is headmaster, Hogwarts’s official stance is that it has none. If any of your students ask about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, please respond with ‘We don’t know at this time’ or ‘It’s too early to tell’.” 

Sally-Anne raised her hand, but Cedric anticipated her question. 

“Regarding Rose Peta-Lorrum, the only rule is don’t speak ill of the dead. She was rather hard to ignore, so I know everyone’s got an opinion of her, but she was a student, and now she’s gone. Not everyone handles loss well, so we must remember to consider those people when speaking of her.” 

In spite of everything, Sally-Anne was glad to hear Hogwarts was taking a stand to defend Rose. Even if Sally-Anne couldn’t give details about how she died, she could at least talk about how she’d lived. 

After Cedric dismissed them, he went straight to Sally-Anne and Ron. 

“If you two or any of your friends need to talk, you can always come to one of us.” 

“Thank you, Cedric. That’s very thoughtful of you. We’ll all remember that.” 

Once again, Cedric’s kindness was reassuring, lessened somewhat by his next question. Fortunately, he’d waited until Ron had excused himself before asking it. 

“Is Hermione alright? I know Rose was her best friend, so it can’t be easy on her.” 

“She’s coping.” Sally-Anne forced herself not to glance at Ron when she spoke. He wouldn’t thank her for putting him on the spot about his relationship with Hermione, no matter what Sally-Anne’s opinion of it was. 

“Honestly, I’m more worried about Neville and Luna. They practically depended on her. Neville’s already… I don’t think he’s coping well.” 

“He’s survived worse.” Cedric gave a reassuring smile. “I know he’ll be alright, but I’ll make sure someone keeps an eye on Luna.” 

Sally-Anne thought back to the Triwizard Tournament, watching Neville take on task after task, then smiled. Neville had survived worse, although she wasn’t concerned about his ability to survive. She was concerned that all her friends were going to do exactly what Rose always did: put themselves right in the middle of everything. Sirius was one person, but these were trained killers, not to mention a man whose name people were scared to even mention. 

“I hope so.” 

While Sally-Anne talked with Cedric, Ron made his way over to Angelina. Not only could he hardly stand to talk to him, he had a question for Angelina. 

“Tryouts are set for the middle of September. I don’t know the exact date yet, but Professor Dumbledore will be giving that during the opening feast.” She grinned slyly at Ron. “Thinking of filling Wood’s place?” 

“Yes,” Ron replied without hesitation. A year ago he would’ve been scared to admit it, but since then, he’d stared into the cold face of death, beaten and broken. He’d survived that, and reminded himself that he was good at what he did. 

“That’ll happen, Weasley. They only let _talent_ into the Quidditch team. Even _Gryffindor_ must have its standards.” 

Sally-Anne heard her calling and stepped between the boys before Ron punched Malfoy. She turned first to the Slytherin and began her lecture with him. 

“Malfoy, you’re plenty good enough that you don’t need to mock Ron. I’d expect this sort of thing from someone insecure about their abilities, which shouldn’t be you. You went from being the worst to being the best, so show some grace and humility for once in your life.” 

Before anyone else could speak, Sally-Anne turned to Ron. 

“You shouldn’t be so insecure to take his bait, so I _don’t_ expect to see you two fighting.” 

Her eyes darted between the two of them. The fingers on her left hand twitched. She remained ready for a fight, hoping it wouldn’t come to that. While she waited for Malfoy to scoff and walk away, she allowed herself to see inside his mind. 

_I don’t need this from her. Father’s on edge, people coming in and out of the house for ‘business meetings’, as if I’m too stupid to know what that means. It means the Dark Lord is back and our house has turned into his bloody home base._

“Whatever, Perks.” Malfoy scoffed before leaving with Parkinson on his arm. 

“Everyone else, take note,” Angelina said, “that’s exactly what we want to see. Perks diffused a situation without fighting or magic. There should never be a need for either.” 

After everyone settled down, Sally-Anne checked on Ron. 

“Best of luck trying out,” she said. “I’ll be sure to go and cheer you on.” 

* * *

Hermione led Harry, Ginny, and Neville through the Hogwarts Express. They walked past row after row, drawing attention to themselves as they went. Hermione tuned out the whispering, knowing that it’d only make her angry. 

As she’d suspected, she found Luna sitting in the last compartment. Luna sat on the floor, her nose buried in a copy of the Quibbler. She didn’t even look up when they arrived. 

“I found your sister sitting exactly like that my first year,” Hermione said. 

Luna looked up from the magazine and gave a smile that even Hermione could tell was fake. 

“Hello, everyone. How was your summer?” 

“Less exciting than theirs,” Neville said, nodding at Hermione and Harry. He took a seat beside Hermione. “Why don’t you sit between Hermione and me?” 

Luna smiled a genuine smile. She put the Quibbler back in her pack, then squeezed between Hermione and Neville. 

“How’s your dad?” Neville asked. 

“He’s alright, I guess. Upset that Rose is gone, but he’ll be alright. I liked the article we published about Rose. I think it cheered us both up.” 

Hermione spared a thought about the dynamic in the Lovegood household. Did Luna have more responsibility there than she let on? It almost sounded like she was taking care of her father. Hermione figured she was only putting pieces together that weren’t there. She knew the real reason Mr. Lovegood was upset, but she didn’t dare tell anyone. 

“I think it cheered all of us up,” Neville said. “I know it did me, that’s for sure.” 

“And me,” Hermione said. She wrapped her arms around Luna and gave her a light squeeze. “Thank you for the copy. It was a wonderful gift.” 

They sat in silence for a time after that. It wasn’t until Ginny spoke that the silence broke. 

“I remember a time during combat practice when she was helping me learn _Confringo_. We didn’t know how big the explosion was going to be, and I accidentally caught her in it.” Ginny started laughing. “I ran over, thinking I’d killed her, but when everything settles, she’s on the floor, laughing like I’d told her a joke. Like being caught in an explosion was normal!” 

Hermione began laughing, followed by Harry. Neither Neville nor Luna laughed, but they both smiled. One by one, they shared stories about Rose. Hermione recounted the first time she’d brought Rose to the library; Harry remembered when Rose broke him out of Privet Drive; Neville had another story from combat practice. 

“We made cupcakes together last year,” Luna told them. “Rose told us all about De’rok. When she used to go to Rontus and see the Dwarves, they had drinking games around her. She said Alice must’ve been trying to kill them by coming and going, since they would all drink every time she said ‘salutations’.” 

Even Neville laughed at that one, but no one laughed as hard as Hermione, who had to work not to fall over. The laughter died down after a minute, then Hermione spoke. 

“One thing we all need to be clear on, is that Rose wasn’t mad. She was from another world. I’ve seen her brother and sister; I’ve _talked_ to them. It was just after that boggart attacked me. Her world is real.” 

They all nodded in understanding. They’d all seen the things Rose could do, things no one else could. 

“The Ministry’s going to try to convince us that she was a liar; that she was simply disturbed, but we know better. We know who she was, and we can’t let them convince us otherwise. No matter what they say, remember Rose. No matter what, we’ll fight back in her name. For Rose.” 

Each of her friends echoed her words in turn. Just like that, they were united under Rose’s name. 

“We’re almost there,” Harry said, glancing out the window. 

“Whatever’s in store for us, we’ll face it together,” Neville said. 

“We’ll fix it,” Hermione said, “because together, we can fix anything.” 

* * *

They met up with Ron and Sally-Anne on their way out of the train. Harry spotted them in the crowd, and they all met up in one of the carriages. 

“How was the prefect cart?” Harry asked. 

“Great until Malfoy showed up,” Ron replied. 

“He wasn’t that horrible, Ron,” Sally-Anne said, although Hermione drowned her out. 

“Malfoy’s a prefect?” Hermione asked. “What for?” 

“Probably that everyone deserves a chance to prove themselves, and that a little responsibility might be good for him,” Sally-Anne said firmly as she glared at Hermione. 

“He is a lot better than he was,” Harry said. 

“He’s threatened us, left us for dead, poisoned you–” 

“Of course he seems bad when you list off only the bad things he’s done, but there’s plenty of good in there as well,” Sally-Anne said. “He showed a lot of growth last year, even if he did out my old crush on Harry in front of everyone.” 

“He sounds great,” Ginny said, her tone mimicking Hermione’s. 

“He’s got enough problems this year without us causing any more.” 

“There’s the whole ‘His Dad’s a Death Eater’ thing,” Ron muttered. 

Sally-Anne sensed she was losing ground, but she refused to back down. She knew Malfoy could be nicer if given a chance; she’d seen that firsthand the previous year. He’d hurt her more than anyone, so why was it she was the only one willing to look past it? 

“We don’t _know_ his father’s a Death Eater.” 

“Yes, we do!” Harry snapped. “Voldemort said ‘Lucius’, then a man that sounded like Malfoy started talking!” 

“Unless you’re calling Harry a liar!” Hermione added. 

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Sally-Anne all opened their mouths to argue, but an ear-piercing whistle forced them to stop and cover their ears. 

“That’s much better,” Luna said. “It was getting too loud in here. I’m sure it won’t be any trouble if we all sit in silence.” 

“Sit” wasn’t so much the word; more like “stew”. Sally-Anne knew her friends were forming arguments in their heads, so she looked deeper. What were their reasons for their hostilities? 

Ron and Harry were easy; Malfoy had picked a fight with Ron, likely out of jealousy and resentment, and Sally-Anne had spoken against Harry without realizing it. That one was her fault, so there was no mystery there. 

Hermione was the bigger problem, because in all likelihood, she was trying to imitate Rose. Sally-Anne didn’t know how to deal with that, but she was sure she wouldn’t have to. Rose got away with everything she did because no one could stop her. Hermione lacked many of Rose’s powers, meaning she was just as stoppable as the rest of them. 

Sally-Anne resolved to keep an eye on them. It was part of her responsibility as a prefect to handle disputes and watch over the other students, and part of her responsibility as a friend to take care of her friends. With McGonagall’s help, she was sure she could keep Hermione on the right path and out of trouble. 

When they arrived at the castle, Sally-Anne took the opportunity to talk to Harry. 

“I didn’t mean to say you lied,” she whispered. “I believe you about the graveyard. I just think it’s a little harsh to assume Draco’s involved.” 

Harry gave her a silent nod. He knew that a child wasn’t always privy to the actions of his caretaker. 

When Sally-Anne knew she’d received his forgiveness, she wove her way through the crowd to do something she should’ve done in the first place. 

“Malfoy! Parkinson!” 

She found the Slytherins towards the middle of the crowd, joined by a large chunk of their house. 

“What do you want, Perks?” Malfoy spat. 

_Yes! Still calling me ‘Perks’!_

“To do what I should’ve done on the train,” she replied, falling into step with them. “Congratulations on making prefect. Both of you. I think it’s a splendid idea, and I know you’ll do well.” 

She smiled at them, hoping she looked and sounded sincere, and that Malfoy’s usual distrust didn’t get in the way again. 

“Of course we will!” Parkinson snapped, sounding as if Sally-Anne’s words had been a horrible insult. “Why wouldn’t we? What do we look like, Gryffindors?” 

She started laughing, then turned to the rest of her house. They joined in her laughter, but Malfoy remained silent. Instead, he glared the others into silence, a tactic Professor Snape often utilized. 

“Thank you, Perks.” Sally-Anne had to admit, Malfoy did a good impression of his father. “But perhaps you should spend less time sucking up to us and more time controlling your own house. After all, they’re the troublemakers in this school.” 

_I know he’s trying to annoy me, but he’s not wrong._

She moved to the edge of the corridor, turning Malfoy’s words around in her head. His words hardly made sense. Not to mention, he wasn’t being horrible to her anymore, just… neutral mean. Was it just because he was distracted, or was she finally getting through to him? 

“Are you two friends now?” 

Sally-Anne fell into step with the rest of her friends. She turned to Hermione to answer her question. 

“I see no reason we can’t be. He can be nice when he wants to be.” 

“I see plenty of reason you can’t be. For one, he tells us our blood is filth to our faces.” 

Sally-Anne smiled, although less when she realized how smug she looked. “Not to me. He calls me ‘Perks’ now, which would’ve been unthinkable a year ago. You think he doesn’t change, but I know he does.” 

“I’m sure he’s grown up so much from last year when he humiliated you in front of Harry’s team.” 

“At least I’m mature enough to look for reasons to be friends rather than excuses to be enemies.” 

They entered the Great Hall, cutting off any attempt of Hermione’s to respond. They took seats at the table, although Hermione seemed to intentionally put space between herself and Sally-Anne. 

_Well, this is a great start to the year._

Sally-Anne looked out at the teacher’s table and spotted their new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. As questionable as she’d found Moody’s teaching methods, she’d found him an effective teacher. Even if it had felt like Rose was teaching them on a few occasions. 

“I don’t see why Moody couldn’t have stayed,” Harry said. 

“I’m proud to hear you say that, Harry,” Sally-Anne said. “A year ago you hated him.” 

“I didn’t hate him, I hated that he replaced Lupin.” 

“With the Order reformed, he had to step down,” Hermione said, “then the Ministry immediately passed a law giving them the power to pick a new teacher.” 

Sally-Anne looked from her friends to the frightful woman in pink sitting at the teacher’s table. She was certainly different from Moody. What sort of person would the Ministry send to teach Defence at Hogwarts? 

After a moment, first-years filed in, guided by Professor McGonagall. Sally-Anne counted them as they entered, surprised to find that there were around 50 students. 

“Class size is getting bigger,” she whispered to Ron. 

“Dad says the War did a number on it. Used to be almost 100 new students each year.” 

They both quieted down when the Sorting Hat began its song for the year. 

* * *

Hermione tried to pay attention to everything going on in the Great Hall. Being back in Hogwarts and knowing she was there to stay should’ve been amazing. Instead, she couldn’t stop seeing Rose everywhere she looked. 

Worse was the feeling that she was being watched. When the Sorting Hat mentioned Slytherin in its song, Hermione glanced around the Great Hall. Careful not to let anyone catch on, she only moved her eyes. She wasn’t sure what she expected to see; it wasn’t as if the creature that it’d sent to follow Rose two summers ago would be lurking around the rafters. 

_What’d she call it? Evelyn, that was it, as in Evil Int._

She sank a little when she realized that Int was gone too. Int, Inar, Ob, and Ref were all gone. Ana hadn’t seemed like herself over the summer either. It was hard to tell what the duct tape golem thought, but Hermione was sure she’d been in mourning. 

“I would also like to officially welcome two new members to the staff.” Professor Dumbledore motioned to the back of the hall, where Filch stood flanked by Taltria and Alavel. “Ms. Taltria and Mr. Alavel will join Mr. Filch as his assistants.” 

Hermione caught Sally-Anne and Harry laughing to one another. They knew the Nimblewrights better than she did, so it must’ve been funny to hear them called “Ms. Taltria” and “Mr. Alavel”. 

Hermione offered a small smile, trying to join in on her friends’ amusement, but she couldn’t bring one to her lips. She envied them in a way; they didn’t know anything about the monster lurking behind the walls. 

_It will just take some time to adjust. Before you know it, everything will be fine._

* * *

“Gryffindor first-years, follow me!” Sally-Anne called to the new students. 

“That means all of you!” Ron added. “Move it!” 

They led a group of terrified first-years out of the Great Hall. Sally-Anne glanced back and counted them. Twelve; seven girls and five boys. It wasn’t much bigger than their class, but she figured it’d start to grow after that. Sally-Anne remembered that the school used to host 1000 students at the time, more than twice what it did in their first year. 

_Nothing to worry about now._ She turned back and addressed the students. “Stay close! Gryffindor Tower is on the seventh floor, and it’s easy to get lost. Apart from the professors, and a few students, no one knows the exact layout of Hogwarts. We’ll help you get to class the first few days. If you get lost after that, the portraits or ghosts can help you!” 

One of the boys raised his hand. 

“What if we can’t find one?” 

“The portraits cover most of the walls,” Ron said. “And we cover the castle at night, so we’ll find you sooner or later.” 

Sally-Anne shot a glare at Ron when some students gasped in horror. 

“Don’t worry, everyone. We’ve got ways of finding you if you get lost. The best thing to do is try to find your way back. If you’re completely lost, stay still, and we’ll find you.” 

This seemed to reassure the students. As she led her students up to Gryffindor Tower, Sally-Anne thought back to her own first year at Hogwarts. She’d been horrible with directions, but never got lost once. How had she managed that? 

A wave of grief came over her when she realized the answer: Rose. So far, none of the new students had asked about her, but Sally-Anne figured it was only a matter of time. She wasn’t dreading it, but she wasn’t looking forward to it either. 

Sally-Anne looked back and saw faces full of wonder. She remembered feeling the same way. The talking portraits, floating candles, moving staircases, the ghosts, it’d all been so new and wonderful to her. Now it felt familiar, comforting even. 

“The common room’s hidden behind a portrait,” Sally-Anne explained as they reached the common room. “The Fat Lady only lets you in if you’ve got the password, but–” 

Another hand went up, this time one of the girls. 

“Did it really used to be guarded by knights?” 

“It did. Two years ago, Professor Dumbledore commissioned a pair of living suits of armor to be built to address security concerns.” Another hand went up. “Yes, it was Sirius Black, but he much prefers Sirius. Calling him ‘Mr. Black’ makes him feel old.” 

Some of the students giggled at this. Sally-Anne led them to the portrait of the Fat Lady. 

“Another new bunch,” the Fat Lady greeted them. “Welcome back, Sally-Anne, Ronald.” 

“How was your summer?” Sally-Anne asked. 

“Pleasant and relaxing, all things considered,” she said. “I am so sorry about–” 

“Yes, thank you.” It felt rude to cut her off, but Sally-Anne didn’t want to start on about Rose with the first-years. 

“Dancing Trolls,” Ron said. 

_Glad he remembered,_ Sally-Anne thought as the portrait swung open. “Just to warn you, she tends to fall asleep after curfew, so be sure to be inside by then.” 

Ron and Sally-Anne showed them around the empty common room, emphasizing how rare that was. They looked around a moment, then the same girl that asked about the Nimblewrights asked the question she’d been dreading. 

“Did a girl really kill herself last year?” 

“Of course not!” Ron snapped. 

Sally-Anne caught his gaze and shook her head. As much as it pained them both, they knew they weren’t allowed an opinion on the matter. Something with which she knew she’d have an easier time than Ron. 

“We don’t know what really happened,” Sally-Anne said. “We don’t think so, seeing how Rose was our friend, but she’s gone now.” 

“I heard some people think You-Know-Who killed her!” one boy scoffed. 

“If the girls would follow me, I’ll show you to your rooms.” 

Sally-Anne was glad they dropped the subject before getting carried away. She could tell Ron was itching to tell Harry’s version of events. 

“When do we get our schedules?” one girl asked as they trekked up the stairs. 

“Not until Monday morning, but they don’t change much from year to year anymore. If I remember right, you’ll have History of Magic with Professor Binns at 10, then Defence Against the Dark Arts with Professor Umbridge at noon.” 

“How do you know that?” another girl asked. “Is that what you did?” 

“No, the schedules didn’t get organized until my third year. I got a copy of first year schedules from the past two years, and saw they were the same.” 

Sally-Anne gave them the same instructions Alex had given her four years ago. Again, she warned them not to stay out after curfew, emphasizing that they would get caught. She didn’t mention the Twins or Rose, since she knew how both had gotten away with it. 

_Although if Harry’s got the map now…_

“Is Professor Snape really as bad as people say?” the girl that had asked about Rose asked. 

Sally-Anne took note of the girl. Loretta White. She had a lot of questions; Sally-Anne couldn’t tell if she was someone who had to know everything, or just nosy. Either way, Sally-Anne resolved to keep an eye on her. If Loretta stuck her nose into everything, she’d have problems. 

“He’s not so bad, just strict so no one gets hurt. Don’t be afraid to ask him for help; he’ll give it to you, no matter how scary he looks.” 

“Looks plenty scary to me,” one girl muttered. One of the other girls laughed until Sally-Anne glared at her. 

“All the professors are here to help you. I can’t personally vouch for Professor Umbridge, but everyone else is pretty nice. It takes some time to adjust to Professor Snape, and Professor Binns can be dull, but I’ve learned plenty from both of them.” 

Loretta raised her hand, looking like she’d just remembered a question whose answer would end world hunger. Sally-Anne became concerned about its subject. She didn’t think she could field more questions about Rose without crying. 

“Last question, then I’ll let you girls settle in.” 

“Are you really dating Viktor Krum?” 

Sally-Anne kept her face neutral, although she was laughing inwardly. It was a relatively normal question, although she had to admire Loretta’s resourcefulness. 

“Yes, I am, but–” Sally-Anne was drowned out by questions from Loretta and two other girls. 

“But that’s all I’m going to say on the matter!” 

The questions stopped, leaving a few disappointed students. Sally-Anne paid them little mind; she’d talk to them in time if it became relevant. 

“I’ll let you all get settled in and acquainted. Do remember you’ll all be sharing a room for the next seven years, so do try not to get on each other’s nerves.” 

She made sure not to look at anyone in particular when she said this, but she was sure she lingered on Loretta for a moment too long. 

Sally-Anne left the room and went back to the common room. 

_I have not missed that walk._

She found Ron staring into space on a couch as students walked inside. 

“I hope they weren’t too awful,” Sally-Anne said. 

Ron jumped, training his wand on her, but relaxed when he saw who it was. 

“They’ve got a lot of questions,” Ron said, putting his wand back in his sleeve. 

“Of course they have.” Sally-Anne sat on the couch next to him, moving people aside so she fit. “They’re new here. Everything’s new to them, and they want to learn. That’s probably a good sign.” 

Ron shrugged, bumping Sally-Anne when he did. “I guess. I just yelled and they stopped.” 

It was exactly as she’d suspected. Ron wasn’t good with subtlety, so he fell back on force. 

“Just redirect them. It works a lot better than yelling.” 

“But yelling’s easier.” 

“But it’s–” Sally-Anne raised her voice, but realized she was using the same tactic against which she was advocating. Instead, she went with a different approach. 

“In chess, how do you stop your opponent from figuring out your next move?” 

“Distract them.” Once again, her subtlety was lost on Ron. “What’s chess got to do with this?” 

“It’s just like a game of chess. If you don’t like the direction the conversation’s going, distract them with a new one. It works a lot better than yelling at them. I don’t know if it’s just the company I keep, but people seem more determined to figure out the answer when someone yells at them to drop it.” 

Ron nodded and Sally-Anne smiled at him. He’d accepted her help, for once. She wasn’t sure how she’d done it, but she suspected it was using chess. 

She noticed Ron’s attention was more on the people walking in than on her. Despite living with both of them for the past few days, Sally-Anne was certain she hadn’t seen Ron and Hermione talk to each other once. 

It was clear to her that it was getting to him. She understood Ron well enough to know what made him tick. She understood that he felt inadequate alongside his brothers, and even being chosen as a prefect wasn’t enough to shield him from the pain Hermione was causing him by avoiding him. 

“Can you teach me how to play chess?” 

Ron frowned at her. 

“You don’t know?” 

“Not really,” Sally-Anne said, smiling sheepishly. “I think I know what the pieces are called.” 

Ron started laughing, and Sally-Anne joined him. 

“I think I’ve got some time to spare.” He stood up, then frowned. “When do our rounds start?” 

“Tonight.” 

Ron grimaced, but it cheered Sally-Anne up a little to know that some things didn’t change. 


	4. Defence the Fifth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Defence the Fifth makes her big debut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling owns Defence the Fifth.

Not only was Hermione back at Hogwarts, but her first class of the day was Arithmancy. It’d crossed her mind that someone had put that first on purpose, but without Rose talking with Professor Dumbledore all the time, she didn’t find it likely. 

Just as she always had, Hermione showed up to class 15 minutes early, beating even Professor Vector to the classroom. Hermione sat down and sorted out her notes. 

“I almost didn’t believe you were back.” 

Hermione nearly lost herself to giddiness when she heard Cedric’s voice. With his perfect smile on his face, he took the seat next to her. 

“Best believe it, because it’s true. They let me come back.” 

“I’m glad they did. It’s not quite the same without you.” 

Hermione smiled at the complement. It was still much the same Cedric: kind and thoughtful. 

“How’ve you been?” Cedric asked, folding his hands on his desk. 

Hermione reflected back on the past year. “Better, all things considered. Still coping with not having Rose here, but I’m sure I’ll be alright.” 

Cedric placed a comforting hand on Hermione’s shoulder. Hermione smiled and placed her hand on his. His hands were warm and gentle, but his grip was strong. At that moment, she knew Cedric would be there for her in spite of everything. 

“Does Chang know you’re holding hands with another girl?” 

Rebecca’s voice startled Hermione, and she pulled her hand away. Cedric slowly lowered his hand, but wasn’t ashamed. He eyed Roger and Rebecca as they took their seats. 

“Cho knows I take care of my friends. In fact, I think that’s what she likes about me.” 

“She’s got nothing to worry about from me,” Hermione said to Cedric. “My best friend’s gone, a psychopath’s on the loose, I’ve got a N.E.W.T. in this class and O.W.L.s at the end of the year, the Ministry is openly attacking my friends, and I’ve got a bad feeling about our new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. Boys are quite literally the last thing on my mind.” 

Rebecca snickered, but Hermione was thankful for the glares Cedric and Roger gave her. 

“Poor Weasley,” Rebecca muttered. 

“Stop it!” Roger snapped. “Really, just stop it!” He turned back to Cedric and Hermione. “I’m sorry about Rose. She was… odd, but I liked her.” 

Roger’s words brought a smile back to Hermione’s face. “Thank you, Roger. Really, thank you.” 

“Don’t mention it,” he scoffed, sounding a little like Ron. 

His tone was matched by a grin, and for a moment, Hermione wanted to sink in her chair. She couldn’t stand to be around Ron, not because he annoyed her (for once), but because she thought the guilt would eat her alive. After everything she’d done to stop herself from hurting him, she’d gone and done it anyway. 

_You can just talk to him,_ Sally-Anne’s voice said in her head. _It’d be fine if you just talked to him._

_And say what? ‘Sorry I didn’t write you, Ron, but I’ve been busy.’ That’ll go well. I might as well just say ‘Sorry, you’re just not important enough.’_

She blocked out any other thoughts of Ron and turned her attention to Roger and Cedric. 

“That thing was incredible,” Roger was saying. “Did you ever find out what it was?” 

Cedric shrugged. “Neville kept calling it ‘King Bug’, which I guess fits as well as anything. It was durable as anything and didn’t go down easily. Fleur going rogue didn’t do us any favors, but I’m honestly glad Neville was there. He probably saved all our lives… again.” 

Hermione smiled to herself. While her friends had seen the change in him day by day, she saw him during the opening feast, then at champion selection, then during the first task. The change had been astounding; Timid Toad himself, pulling off feats she’d never have thought possible of anyone apart from Rose. She’d really done a lot with him. 

“Of all the people…” Roger leaned back in his chair. “I couldn’t believe Longbottom in the first task alone.” 

“Even I’ll admit,” Cedric said, “dragging himself like that to the tent took a lot. I’d have given up halfway and just thought ‘this isn’t worth it’.” 

“He had a lot riding on it,” Hermione said without thinking much of it. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” 

“Go ahead,” Roger said. “You know him better than any of us.” 

“Who does Hermione know?” Professor Vector asked, walking into the classroom in the middle of a conversation and picking up on it, as was her way. 

“We were talking about Longbottom in the Triwizard Tournament last year,” Roger said. “Amazing, right?” 

Professor Vector made a face and lifted both eyebrows. “You, Mr. Davies, weren’t sitting next to Professor Sprout for the first task. I thought she was going to faint when those rocks came crashing down on him.” 

Hermione thought back to the first task, but stopped when another memory took its place. She shoved the thought of Ron lying dead on the ground out of her mind, or as best she could. It still lingered there, waiting for her to drop her guard and think about it. 

Graham and Cassius took their seats as Professor Vector began to start class. Not a second later, Alicia snuck in and took a seat behind Hermione. 

“Ms. Spinnet, nice of you to join us,” Professor Vector said without turning her back. 

“She’s got the whole room enchanted, remember?” Hermione whispered. 

“ _Now_ I do,” Alicia muttered. “Good to have you back, Granger.” 

Hermione smiled and turned back to Professor Vector as she explained what they’d be working on that year. 

“Magical analysis, spell disassembly, and Arithmantic foundations will be the core of this year. Practical applications of such include curse-breaking and counterspelling. We will also be covering how to safely build upon or alter existing enchantments. To begin, we will review the mathematical building blocks of all spells: matrices. Can anyone–” Hermione’s hand shot up. “–tell me what a matrix is?” She paused for a moment, then pretended to have just seen Hermione’s hand. “Ms. Granger, can you?” 

“A matrix is an array of numbers or expressions arranged in rows and columns. It can also be given depth, extending it into three-dimensional space, or as many arbitrary dimensions as one wants.” 

“Correct, although you make it sound awfully boring, considering how powerful they are in maths.” 

Hermione couldn’t tell if she’d just been insulted, but didn’t expect anything like that from Professor Vector. They were sort of friends, after all. 

“Every spell is represented by a system of equations, which one can turn into a matrix operation,” Professor Vector continued, writing something on the board. “I’ve explained this before, but what I haven’t explained is how this allows us to build upon them. Specifically, if one can introduce a new matrix into the mix, one can alter the resulting equation. Alter the equation, alter the final spell.” She finished writing a system of equations that Hermione recognized instantly. 

“This,” she said, tapping the board, “is the _Lumos_ spell equation, in its base form. This matrix on the side would usually be factored out due to your wands. As I’ve mentioned before wands serve many purposes. This year, we will discuss them more in depth, explain how exactly they work, and understand why we need them.” 

Hermione took down every word Professor Vector said, both on paper and in her head. Specifically, she wrote down the part about wands. Something struck her as odd, and she wanted to research it further. In the margins of her paper, she wrote another question: “Do wands protect against accidental magic?” 

“Yes,” Professor Vector told her after class. “I am so sorry, Hermione. I didn’t know myself until I’d discovered what was happening to you last year.” 

“So me losing control of my magic _was_ because I don’t use a wand?” 

“I doubt that was the only contributing factor, but it may have been a big one.” 

Hermione nodded, reflecting for a moment on the past year. 

“I’m not going to stop,” she said. “It’s still better, I’ve just got to relearn control.” 

Professor Vector frowned and sat up straight in her chair. 

“Are you saying you still don’t have full control?” 

“I’ve got enough control, just… there was an incident over the summer.” Hermione lowered her voice. “Harry, Sirius, Taltria, Alavel, and I were out and about, and a Dementor came after us.” 

“What?” Professor Vector hissed. 

“We don’t know why, or even how it knew where to find us, but I conjured a Patronus Charm and stopped it.” 

“Without a wand?” 

Hermione nodded. “It was as if the whole thing fell into place, but then… then I passed out.” Professor Vector opened her mouth, but Hermione cut her off. “I’m fine, they carried me home, but… I’m trying not to push myself any harder than that. I can’t safely pull a spell out of my head anymore.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that. If I’d known this would happen, I would’ve tried steering you in another direction.” 

“It wouldn’t have mattered. Rose didn’t let anyone steer her either. Besides, you didn’t send a Dementor after me and my friend.” 

“I suppose not.” Professor Vector glanced at the clock. “You should go before you’re late to class.” 

Hermione nodded and stood up. 

“Thanks, Professor.” 

“Stay safe, Hermione. And be careful of Professor Umbridge. If the Ministry’s really out to get you, she may go looking for excuses to punish you. Don’t give her any.” 

“You’ve got nothing to worry about,” Hermione said, smiling. “It’s me.” 

“As you often remind people, Rose Peta-Lorrum’s best friend,” Professor Vector said dryly. 

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” 

Hermione gave a Rose grin before leaving the classroom. 

* * *

Hermione took her seat in Defence that evening. She didn’t care for their new professor so far, but Hermione was determined to continue being a good student. She took out their textbook, her notes, and a pencil. Sally-Anne took the seat beside her, then leaned over after she situated her own supplies. 

“How’s your first day back?” she asked. 

“I’ll tell you after it’s finished.” 

The girls sat quietly while their friends took their seats. Hermione glanced at Harry, whose eyes were darting around the room. 

_At least someone else is upholding the proud tradition of not trusting our Defence professor._

“Good evening, class,” Umbridge said. 

The class responded with a mumbled and unenthusiastic “Good evening”. 

“That’s no good. When I say, ‘Good evening, class’, I expect to hear ‘Good Evening, Professor Umbridge’. Let’s try that again, shall we? Good evening, class.” 

The chorus of “Good evening, Professor Umbridge” was louder, but just as enthusiastic. 

“There; that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Umbridge asked in a sickly sweet voice. “Now we can get to our lesson. Wands away and quills out.” 

Most of the students groaned at “wands away”, knowing it never lead to anything good. Hermione waited for their next instruction, having never taken her wand out in the first place. 

Umbridge drew her own wand from her offensively pink hand bag. To Hermione’s surprise, it wasn’t pink. Umbridge tapped the board with it, causing words to appear in chalk. 

_Defence Against the Dark Arts_

_A Return to Basic Principles_

_This isn’t going to go well,_ Hermione thought. 

“Your teaching in this subject has been far below the acceptable standard, wouldn’t you say?” Umbridge gave a friendly smile. “Due to the constant change in teachers, none of whom followed a proper, Ministry-approved curriculum, you all find yourselves far below what is required for your O.W.L.s. It is most unfortunate, most unfortunate.” 

Apart from everything else, Hermione nearly shuddered when she realized that some students had Lockhart in their O.W.L. or N.E.W.T. year. She made a note to look up the pass rate for that year. 

Hermione tuned back into Umbridge’s ramblings about a Ministry-approved, theory-based curriculum. The studious part of her wanted to listen to every detail for the sake of catching every detail, but the sensible part of her said it wasn’t worth her time. Looking at the words now on the board, she scribbled them down. 

_COURSE AIMS_

_1\. Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic._

_2\. Learning to recognize situations in which defensive magic can legally be used._

_3\. Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use._

She reviewed them again after writing them down. Then read them again. Convinced she must’ve been missing something, she read them again, but there was no mistake. 

Nothing in the course aims or Umbridge’s opening lecture even implied that they’d be casting spells. 

As per Umbridge’s instructions, everyone began reading chapter one of their book. Having already read the entire book five times over, Hermione raised her hand to ask about the course aims. 

Umbridge settled into her chair, her big, toad-like eyes watching the rest of the students. She smiled as if the world existed solely for her own amusement. 

Hermione waited, her hand in the air, and her patience fading. She knew Umbridge was ignoring her; she just didn’t know why. What reason was there to outright ignore a student with a question? Did she think it wasn’t worth her time to actually teach? Based on first impressions, that seemed the likely answer. 

Hermione felt anger bubbling inside her, so she closed her eyes and forced herself to remain calm. If she lost it in class, especially her current one, the consequences would be dire. Satisfying, but dire. 

Hermione began swaying her arm back and forth, more out of boredom than impatience. Bored was fine; it wasn’t angry or sad, so it shouldn’t incite her fight-or-flight instinct. 

“You have a question about the reading, Ms…?” Umbridge asked. 

“Granger, and it’s about the course aims.” Hermione let her hand fall to her side, giving it the rest it so desperately needed. 

“We’re doing the readings just now, so if it’s about the readings, I’ll be happy to hear it.” 

Hermione thought for a moment, then had an idea. “Are we reading a book for a class in which we won’t be casting spells?” 

A few students snickered at her workaround. Hermione imagined if Rose had been there, she’d have been one of them. Of course, Sally-Anne narrowed her eyes at Hermione, then rolled them and returned to her reading. 

The fake smile returned to Umbridge’s face. “Ms. Granger, why would we need to cast spells?” 

For a moment, Hermione thought it was a rhetorical question, but then she realized that Umbridge was serious. She had no intention of teaching them defensive magic. Fortunately, Hermione _knew_ the answer to Umbridge’s question. 

“Because theory isn’t the same as practice.” 

“Theory is all you children require. Now please, continue with your reading.” 

“I’ve already–” 

“If you’ve got another question, Ms. Granger, please raise your hand.” 

_I’ve got plenty, but I doubt you’ll answer any of them,_ Hermione thought as her hand shot into the air. Of course, Umbridge ignored her hand, but did choose to call on another. 

“Yes, Mr…?” 

“Weasley, and are we just gonna assume that a spell will work if we’re attacked?” 

“Do you expect to be attacked in my class?” 

“Yes,” Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Neville replied. 

“I don’t know what my predecessors have taught you, but there’s no need to worry about that.” 

Harry and Sally-Anne raised their hands, joining Ron and Hermione. Umbridge looked at each of them for a moment, as if weighing her options. 

“Ms…?” 

“Sally-Anne Perks, Ma’am, and no disrespect, but we’ve been attacked in school before.” 

Umbridge didn’t miss a beat. “Then it is as I feared. Not only has this class been mismanaged, but the entire school. Thank you for informing me of this, Ms. Perks.” 

Hermione shot a glare at Sally-Anne. The last thing Hermione wanted Umbridge to have was ammunition to use against them, and Sally-Anne had just served it up on a silver platter with tea and biscuits! 

“What about the Triwizard Tournament that the Ministry thought was such a resounding success?” Hermione asked, her hand still in the air. “If all they’d had was theoretical practice, none of the champions would’ve survived!” 

“You will wait to be called on before speaking, Ms. Granger,” Umbridge said, her voice taking on a slight edge. “One more outburst like that, and I’ll be forced to start taking points.” 

_Not points!_ she could hear Rose say. _Not the arbitrary prize that teachers give out on a whim! Then I’ll never get my dream of winning the pointless prize at the end!_

“Now, if there are no more questions–” Several hands went up. “–we can return to the reading.” 

Umbridge settled back into her chair, ignoring the raised hands. Hermione fought to keep her emotions in check. She wasn’t impulsive like Rose; thinking snide remarks was fine, so long as they didn’t escape her mouth. She knew better than to lash out at teachers, even if the pink woman in front of her didn’t technically qualify as a teacher. No, teachers were required to teach something, and unless this was a lesson in keeping one’s temper down, Hermione wasn’t learning anything. 

Hermione lowered her hand when an idea struck her. Umbridge was their official Defence professor, but she wasn’t the only qualified professor at Hogwarts. With luck, she could convince the other one to teach her. Sure, he didn’t much care for her, but he had some kind of soft spot for Rose. She only hoped it would be enough. 

“What about Voldemort?” Harry blurted out, sending a wave of gasps rippling through the class. “Is a theoretical defence supposed to stop him too?” 

Umbridge turned to him and smiled a sickeningly warm smile. “You must be Mr. Potter.” She turned from him and addressed the rest of the class. “You have all been informed that a particular dark lord has returned. That he is once again alive and active. That some recent disappearances are a result of his doing. You need not worry; _this is a lie_.” 

“No it isn’t!” Harry shouted. “I was there, I saw him!” 

“Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter.” 

Silence fell over the classroom, and one by one, every hand sank to their owners’ sides. Hermione was the only one who kept her hand raised. 

Umbridge shot her a glare so fast Hermione would’ve missed it if she’d picked the wrong time to blink. After showing her dislike of a student, Umbridge returned to her desk, which was when Hermione chose to ask her question. 

“So Rose just dropped dead of her own accord?” 

“Ms. Peta-Lorrum’s death was tragic, but ultimately, yes.” Umbridge’s voice dripped with sympathy; the same kind of sympathy a bad parent might show a child when their toy broke: condescending and fake. “As I’m sure you’re all aware, she was a disturbed young girl, and to those that knew her, her death was unsurprising.” 

“ _Dürah!_ ” 

“Pardon me?” 

“Hermione, don’t,” Sally-Anne hissed. 

“Don’t talk about ‘those that knew her’, because I did know her! Rose was my best friend! I knew her better than anyone, so don’t just spew some Ministry _dürah_ that you read in the _Daily Propaganda_!” 

Hermione was a little surprised that she was more concerned about keeping control of her magic than she was about the fact that she’d just screamed at a teacher. Of course, “teacher” was still not an apt description of whatever was pretending to teach their class. 

Half the class stared in shock at Hermione, and half the class awaited “Professor” Umbridge’s response. 

“I will see you tonight for detention, Ms. Granger,” Umbridge said calmly. 

Hermione’s first instinct was to apologize. She’d rarely been punished, let alone received detention. Something inside her told her to apologize, explain that she’d been overwhelmed with grief upon hearing the subject of Rose, and that it was just a misunderstanding. But something else inside her told her to take a stand. No one else was going to do it. 

“I look forward to it,” Hermione said. 

* * *

Sally-Anne watched her friends leave, then looked at Umbridge. She had a bad feeling already, but she knew what she had to do. Sally-Anne walked up to Umbridge, smiling her most diplomatic smile. 

“Professor, may I have a word, please?” Sally-Anne checked every detail of her body language; her hair wasn’t in her face, her hands were folded in front of her, she kept focus on her target, and, most importantly, she stood tall as if to tell everyone she knew exactly what she was doing. 

“Ms. Perks, was it?” 

“Yes, Professor.” 

As much as Sally-Anne hated the condescending tone of Umbridge’s voice, years of practice talking to Harry had taught her to hide any irritation, no matter how big or small. 

“What can I do for you?” 

“My friends were the ones disrespecting you today, and I wanted to apologize on their behalf. We may not agree with you or the Ministry about what happened to Rose, but it was rude of them to lash out at you during class, to say the least.” 

Umbridge’s smile didn’t falter, but she paused for a moment. Sally-Anne took the hesitation to dig into Umbridge’s mind, but found nothing. 

_I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised._

“I’m glad to see that someone in Gryffindor has some sense,” Umbridge said. “Thank you, Ms. Perks. I look forward to seeing you again.” 

Sally-Anne smiled and nodded her head politely. 

“Will that be all?” 

Sally-Anne averted her eyes as she struggled to remember her other question. 

“I’m not saying that I believe… He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back, but I think we can agree that he was dangerous, right?” 

“Of course. You-Know-Who was the most ruthless, powerful wizard to walk the earth. But he is dead. It’s not possible to bring the dead back to life. Tales of his resurrection were born simply out of fear, and a desire to spread that fear to others.” 

“But what if he found a way? No one–” 

“He didn’t.” 

“It’s not possible to know everything. If there’s even the slightest chance that–” 

“There isn’t, Ms. Perks.” 

Umbridge’s tone had shifted from condescending to warning. Sally-Anne knew she was only losing ground, so she switched tactics. She smiled again, intentionally making her smile too big. 

“I’m sorry. I probably read too many fairy tales.” 

“Given the company you keep, I’m not surprised you became confused.” 

“Thank you for clearing it up, Professor. I’ll stop taking up your time.” 

Sally-Anne curtsied and turned to leave. She left the room as quickly as she could without looking like she was trying to leave quickly. On her way out, Sally-Anne found most of her friends waiting for her. 

“What was that about?” Hermione asked. 

“Diplomacy,” Sally-Anne replied. “It is my job, after all.” She did a quick headcount of her friends. “Where are Ron and Neville?” 

“Went on ahead,” Harry said. “Neville said he wanted to catch Luna when she came out of class, and Ron said he’d go with him.” 

_Oh no._

At first, she felt frustration towards Hermione. Sally-Anne knew how Ron worked; Hermione had hurt him, so he was shutting out Hermione. It was just as simple as the solution. All Hermione had to do was talk to him, but she’d committed herself to ignoring him. 

“Changing the subject, you shouldn’t have lashed out like that.” 

“You heard what that _jato_ said about Rose,” Hermione said as they started walking. 

“Calling her names isn’t going to change her mind, it’s just going to convince her that you’ve got an attitude problem.” 

“I haven’t got an attitude problem!” Hermione snapped. 

“I didn’t say you did, just that she probably thinks you do now. Besides, how are you going to explain your detention to your parents? You know, the ones that look for an excuse to bring you back home?” 

“I’ll be fine!” Hermione snapped. 

“Of course,” Sally-Anne said, relaxing herself enough to calm Hermione down. “That doesn’t mean I’m not going to worry about you.” 


	5. I Would Never Want to Be in Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which someone makes Hermione cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** I would be in lots of trouble if I didn't mention that J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter.

“Well, I’m off to detention,” Hermione said as dinner finished up. “Wish me luck.” 

“Do you have to sound so happy?” Sally-Anne asked. “It is detention. Just a few years ago, you would’ve dreaded the thought of it.” 

“And now everything’s in perspective.” 

“Can I go with you?” Harry asked. 

Hermione faltered, genuinely surprised by Harry’s offer. 

“Sure, if you want. I’m just walking upstairs.” 

She exchanged a quick glance with Sally-Anne, who appeared just as confused as she was. After sparing a glance down the table at Ron (who had decided to sit with Lavender and Parvati over her), she got up from the table and started off towards Umbridge’s office. 

“How are you feeling?” Harry asked. “After the other day, I mean.” 

“Fine, all things considered.” They walked for a moment before a thought struck her. “Is that why you wanted to walk with me? To check up on me?” 

“Just… making sure you’re alright. Alavel was worried about you, so there’s more to it than just you passing out. I… haven’t really got a lot of friends right now.” 

“I’m not going anywhere.” Hermione grinned. “Just watch them try to get rid of me. I’ll be back by the next day.” 

Harry gave her a lopsided grin, but kept walking with her all the same. Hermione didn’t give it much more thought. Like most of her friends, Harry was nice. She didn’t know him as well as Sally-Anne or Ron did, but it was nice to know that her friends were all still looking out for her. 

_Including Ron?_

_Shut up, Princess! Quit nagging me about it!_

It wasn’t long before they arrived at Umbridge’s office. It seemed to tower over Hermione, and she got a bad feeling about going inside. She dismissed it quickly. Umbridge was a Ministry goon, nothing more. The kind of person Rose would’ve chewed up and spat out without a second thought. Depending on the day, she might’ve even done so literally. 

“See you later,” Hermione said. 

“I’ll be close by,” Harry said. “In case you need a quick getaway.” 

Hermione laughed and opened the door. The office was covered in bright pink and pictures of cats. Umbridge sat behind her desk, upon which laid a single black quill. 

“Good evening, Ms. Granger.” She looked past her to Harry. “You may leave now, Mr. Potter.” 

Harry hesitated for a moment, then nodded to Hermione before leaving. The door closed behind him, and Hermione took a seat in the only desk. 

“You’re going to write lines, Ms. Granger. Something simple. ‘I must respect authority.’” 

Hermione almost started laughing. It was exactly what she’d expected: a simple punishment from a simple teacher. Umbridge had no idea with whom she was dealing. 

* * *

Harry and Alavel sat in a corridor not far from Umbridge’s office as he heard the clock strike nine. Curfew. Hermione had been with Umbridge for two hours. Neither spoke a word. Harry didn’t know why Alavel never spoke, but he was busy concentrating on Hermione. 

Thanks to his bracelet, he had eyes and ears inside the room. As he’d found out, it allowed him to place a single, invisible sensor up to 30 feet away, through which he could see and hear. He’d also learned that he could walk away and leave the sensor whenever he liked, without concern for it disappearing. 

Thus, when Hermione finally stepped out a few minutes later, Harry already knew exactly what had happened. 

“Hello, boys,” she said. “I’m all finished for tonight, but I’m expected back every day this week.” 

Harry glanced at her hand just as she pulled her sleeve over it. 

“What’s wrong with your hand?” 

Hermione glanced at Alavel to see if he would tell Harry. Satisfied that he wouldn’t, she lied to Harry. 

“Nothing.” 

Alavel narrowed his eyes. 

“Alavel says you’re lying,” Harry said. 

“It’s nothing,” she replied automatically. “I’m fine.” 

“That’s what you said after you passed out a few weeks ago.” He glanced at her right hand. “You’re hiding your right hand, but not your left. What’d she do to it?” 

Hermione looked at Harry, then sighed. “Promise not to tell Ron or Sally-Anne?” She turned her glare to Alavel. “Or anyone else?” 

“Sure.” 

“I’m only here to provide an excuse for Lord Skyeyes being out past curfew.” 

Hermione brought her hand up to show Harry. Traces of “I must respect authority” were still visible on it. 

“What happened?” 

“I’ll explain later,” Hermione said, turning around. “First, I’ve got to check something.” 

Hermione turned around and started walking up to the next floor. 

“Where are you going?” Harry asked. 

“Room of Requirement,” Hermione replied. “I need to test a theory.” 

“Now?” 

“If I’m right, it’ll help hide the marks.” She stopped walking and turned back to him. “Or do you want Princess to get involved?” 

“What have you got in there that can hide it?” Harry asked. 

“It’s not what I’ve got inside,” Hermione said. “What I’ve got is an understanding of how the Room of Requirement works.” 

Harry ran to catch up to Hermione, then fell into step with her. “What?” 

“So far as I can tell, the Room of Requirement is created as a byproduct of the magic that sustains Hogwarts. I don’t know if one of the creators created it on purpose, or if it just appeared, but either way, I think it was originally meant as a storage room.” 

Harry frowned. Of all the possible purposes he’d thought of for the Room of Requirement, storage never so much as crossed his mind. 

“Really?” 

“It’s obvious. What better way to store something than a room completely out of the way, that can turn into anything you want? It’s hidden, like a storeroom should be, but pops up whenever you need it. It can then redecorate itself to fit whatever organizational scheme the user wants, making it easier for them to find it.” 

“So you think someone hid a pair of gloves in it?” he asked as they rounded the corner to the corridor with the dancing troll tapestry. 

“I think it collects lost objects in Hogwarts,” Hermione replied. “People lose gloves all the time. Hopefully, someone will have lost an entire pair, or at least a pair that looks similar enough that I can use them.” 

Hermione paced up and down the corridor, triggering the Room of Requirement. Harry followed her inside the room, checking for anyone nearby so they weren’t caught. Alavel agreed to patrol the corridor for them. Just in case, Harry left a sensor outside the room. 

Inside, he found a room covered in gloves. Gloves of all shapes, sizes, and styles filled the room, all neatly placed on shelves, racks, and displays. 

“Well, Hermione, you wanted gloves,” Harry said, still bewildered that Hermione’s theory had been proven correct. 

“I think I asked for some.” Hermione wasted no time looking over the gloves. As she’d said, most of them were single gloves. Some looked similar, but one was always bigger than the other. Some were the right size, but never looked right. 

“Found one!” Harry called to her. 

Hermione navigated the room to where Harry was looking. She followed his gaze to a display that the room clearly wanted them to see. The pair was on its own pedestal, and Harry swore a spotlight was shining on it from somewhere. 

“It would do this,” Hermione said. 

“It’s the only pair I’ve found that will work,” Harry said. “The others are all too big or too small.” 

Hermione shot him a look that looked half angry, half curious. “How would you know?” 

“I’ve got to be able to judge distance when fighting so I know if I’m within range for Rose’s enhancements.” 

“Why wouldn’t you know? Shouldn’t it be obvious if you’re within range for _blindsight_?” 

“It is, but I need to know how much distance I can safely keep between them and myself.” 

Hermione pondered it for a moment, then picked up the gloves. She held them in her hands, either studying them intently or spacing out. After looking around the room one more time, she sighed. 

“I guess this is the only pair.” She turned them over a few times, carefully examining them. “No holes or anything.” 

“A little odd looking.” 

“So am I,” Hermione said, slipping one glove over her scarred hand. “Oh, they’re nice and warm.” 

“Doesn’t that hurt?” Harry asked as Hermione slid the other glove over her hand. 

“Of course not. Why would it?” 

“You were slicing words into your own hand.” 

“I never said what she did in there.” 

Harry tensed as he realized what he’d said; what he’d done. He’d given away his gift that he’d been trying to keep secret. 

Harry held up his hand and slid down his sleeve to reveal a chain-link bracelet. 

“Alavel gave it to me after we won the Quidditch match last year.” 

Hermione still eyed him with distrust. “What’s it do?” 

“It… it lets me place a sort of… bug. I can see and hear through it, like a kind of camera.” 

Harry didn’t know what to expect, but he knew it wouldn’t end well. He knew lying was one of Hermione’s buttons, probably induced by so much time around Rose. He tensed up and waited for her outburst, but she never started. 

“Is that why you wanted to drop me off?” Hermione asked. “So you could spy on me?” 

“I wasn’t spying. I wanted to support you in case Umbridge did something horrible to you. Then we could both go to Professor McGonagall. She’d believe me when I told her about this; she’s got that pendant Rose made her that she uses to tell Fred and George apart.” 

Hermione frowned and scrunched her nose. She wasn’t angry; Harry knew that was a different face. He was looking at her thinking face. 

“It must be like _spymaster’s coin_ ,” Hermione said. “It isn’t _clairaudience_ , that’s just sound, and _clairvoyence_ is just sight. Is it just one sensor?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Interesting. Like a short-range _scrying_.” She blinked a few times and changed the conversation. “Hold on, why?” 

“Huh?” 

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. “Why bother with me? I could see Ron trying it, or Sally-Anne, but why you?” 

“Because… sometimes it feels like everyone thinks I’m mad. But you believe me.” 

“Of course I believe you. Nothing apart from Voldemort could’ve killed Rose, except maybe… never mind.” She looked at him and realized he was hoping for an answer. “Sorry, something from her world.” 

Harry nodded, hoping Hermione wasn’t about to launch into a Luna-style explanation of something he’d have to tune out. 

“You’re… sure you’re okay?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“You… you didn’t even flinch when you were writing lines. It was horrible just watching. You just wrote over and over, like it wasn’t bothering you.” 

Hermione looked at him as if he’d just said something unbelievable. “Of course it was bothering me. I was carving words into my own skin. I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of seeing me in pain, so I shut it out.” 

“I don’t miss details, Hermione. You weren’t just shutting it out, you weren’t even feeling it!” 

“Maybe I’ve just gotten used to shutting out the pain!” 

Glass shattered around them. Harry drew his wand. His focus went to his _blindsight_. He wasn’t taking any chances, not with Hermione with him. Sirius and Alavel could take care of themselves, but the same couldn’t necessarily be said for Hermione. 

“It’s alright, Scarface,” Hermione said, considerably less on edge than he was. “It was just me.” 

Harry gave her a hard look before lowering his wand. “Are you sure?” 

“Positive. That keeps happening to me. Just like over the summer when I set that article on fire. If I get too worked up, I lose control of my magic.” 

Harry put his wand away before taking a step closer to her. “Are you alright?” 

Instead of looking afraid or worried, Hermione’s distaste was what made it to her face. “Don’t do that.” 

“Do what?” 

“Treat me like I’m made of glass. Like I’m helpless, and everyone else has to save me. I’m sick of it. Ron keeps doing it, Princess is probably the worst about it. I didn’t ask for anyone’s help. It’s not as bad as it was, and I’m fine. It’s just taking a little longer than I’d like to get back to normal.” 

Harry thought back for a moment to when he’d made the decision to plant a sensor in Umbridge’s office. 

“I won’t put another sensor in the classroom,” he said. “I… It seems like Alavel’s the only one that isn’t treating me like a kid.” 

“Well, you’ve always got me,” Hermione said, giving a smile that Harry could’ve said was forced from a mile off. 

They started out of the Room of Requirement. Harry checked the sensor before they left, and found only Alavel in the corridor. 

“I hope you found what you were looking for,” Alavel said. He glanced down at Hermione’s hands and smiled. “Lady Rose would love them.” 

Hermione smiled back. On their way back, only Harry spoke. 

“Don’t call me ‘Scarface’ anymore,” he said. “It’s ‘Skyeyes’ now.” 

“Right, it is,” Hermione replied. “I’ll get the hang of it.” 

* * *

Herbology the next morning wasn’t a problem with gloves; if anything, it was a lot easier. Hermione could hear her classmates whispering about her new “fashion choice”, which she found just a little insulting. They either didn’t think she could hear them, or didn’t care. Either way, she felt she should be insulted. 

“Stop judging me,” she said to Sally-Anne when they both arrived at Ancient Runes. 

“I haven’t said anything about the fact that you’re wearing welding gloves,” Sally-Anne replied. 

“You don’t have to,” Hermione replied. “I know you’re thinking it.” 

She made a note of Professor Babbling’s new office hours, having decided that she was going to start working on a runic cluster for telepathic communication. She didn’t know how it would work yet, but she was determined to find a way. They had magic, after all; anything was possible. Even raising the dead seemed possible, what with Voldemort’s return. She still didn’t know how that had worked, but she had a horrible feeling that Rose had played a part in it. 

_No, Harry said she hadn’t shown up until after he came back,_ she reminded herself. _It’s fine._

Although both Professors Sprout and Babbling gave her odd looks, it wasn’t until Potions that anyone called her out on the gloves. 

“What in Merlin’s name is on your hands, Granger?” Professor Snape asked. 

“Gloves, I believe,” Hermione replied. “Why? Do you like them?” 

Judging by Professor Snape’s expression, Hermione determined that he either hated them or was positively ecstatic about them. With Professor Snape, those were the same facial expressions. 

“Working on a Peta-Lorrum costume for Hallowe’en?” 

“I am now,” Hermione replied, doing her best impression of Rose, complete with toothy grin. 

Snape was clearly not amused. 

* * *

Hermione could hardly contain her excitement Wednesday morning. She was off to Professor Vector’s office, ready to talk with her favorite professor. She’d barely talked with her in a year, and there was so much to show her. Hermione didn’t know where to begin. 

“Start with wandless casting,” she muttered. “Then–” 

“Ooooooh! Beware!” 

Hermione rolled her eyes. On her long list of things she’d missed from Hogwarts, Peeves the Poltergeist wasn’t one of them. She kept on her path, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of messing with her mind. 

Something exploded near her, causing a few nearby students to jump. Hermione ignored it, glancing up as Peeves flew by. 

“Ghosts,” she muttered. “What do you do against ghosts?” 

_Wrong question, Brain. What do you do against Peeves?_

Hermione slowly worked through a spell to replicate sound. It wasn’t possible to replicate it perfectly, as she’d learned when she’d discovered that Basilisks could be killed by hearing a rooster crow. But then, it didn’t need to be perfect. 

Peeves stopped in the middle of another flyover when the sound of chains echoed down the corridor. 

“ _Peeves!_ ” a voice roared. 

Hermione turned back to Peeves. “That sounds like an angry Bloody Baron to me. You might want to run.” 

The same voice roared, growing louder and closer to the frightened poltergeist. 

“Ah!” he yelped. He flew off down the corridor and out of sight. 

“That’s what you do against ghosts,” she muttered. She strained to hear herself over her own heartbeat. 

“Hermione, are you alright?” 

Hermione shot out a hand to steady herself, then slowly looked around. Professor Vector stood behind her. 

“I’m fine,” Hermione said. “Just got a little dizzy is all. I’ll be alright once I sit down.” 

Hermione followed Professor Vector back to her office and took a seat across from her. 

“Is there anything you’d like to ask me about?” Professor Vector asked. 

Hermione took out a notebook, flipped to a marked page, and began to read down a list. 

“I’m looking into Rose’s magic,” Hermione said. “It’s… well, it’s… erm…” 

“She wasn’t from our world, was she?” Professor Vector asked. 

Hermione laughed in spite of herself. 

“It’s not hard to believe, is it?” 

“Not in the slightest.” 

Hermione returned to her notebook and began to list off what she knew. 

“I’ve seen her use _dimension jumper_ , _teleport_ , and _dimension door_ ; that’s how she moved around the castle so fast and got me here. There’s also _telepathic bond_ , which was how she used the _condition conch_ to communicate with me. _Scholar’s touch_ , and I’ve got a great specimen to study for that, same with _sustenance_ , _endure elements_ , and _feather fall_ , although I think I know what to do for that last one. Maybe _blindsight_ , while I’m at it.” 

“That’s quite a list you’ve got,” Professor Vector said. “What’s the purpose of all of that?” 

“I’m trying to replicate Rose’s magic,” Hermione replied. “I’m already working on _telepathic bond_. The goal is to create a cluster of runes that I can imprint on people to communicate with them, setting up a network like Rose did.” 

“Hermione, that’d be a breakthrough of unimaginable proportions,” Vector said. “It’d change the way the DMLE operates. They could conduct entire raids without having to speak with one another.” 

“I also want to work on _arcane sight_ ,” Hermione said. “Rose thought she could use it to detect magic in our world, but it didn’t work on our magic. I don’t know how much good it will do me, but I still want to try.” 

“That’s easy enough. Change the focal point of an analysis charm to your eyes, and it should get you started.” 

“That’s what I thought too.” Hermione flipped through her notebook. “I also talked with her brother about something last year. She mentioned _wish_ , which is how she replicated our magic with hers. Her brother told me most of the research on _wish_ came from studying solar angels. He also said that happens a lot in their world. _Freezing fog_ came from studying white dragons, that sort of thing. I thought if I could study how house-elves apparate, I could find a new way of apparating that wasn’t blocked by the ward at Hogwarts.” 

“ _That_ would be dangerous,” Professor Vector said. “If the wrong people found out how to do that, there would be no way to ensure the safety of anyone.” 

Hermione nodded and made a note of that in her notebook. She was sure it’d crossed her mind before, but she must’ve dismissed it. If it was a big problem, she would be sure to keep it away from anyone dangerous. 

“What about your telepathic network?” Professor Vector asked. “What do you mean by that?” 

“Anyone imprinted with the rune would be linked together,” Hermione explained. “All you’d have to do would be to focus on the group, and you could send your thoughts to them. I figure the medium for it would be linked runes, I just don’t know how to translate thoughts into that.” 

Professor Vector frowned and tapped her chin thoughtfully. 

“I’m not sure either, but if anyone can figure it out, it’s you.” She took out a piece of parchment and scribbled something on it. “I’ll ask around. I won’t mention you or anything you’re working on, but if someone else is working on something similar, perhaps we can collaborate. I can’t make any promises, just that I’ll try.” 

“Thank you,” Hermione said. “Thank you so much.” 

After talking with Professor Vector about the past year, Hermione left for the library. Another problem had been bothering her for the past few days. When she arrived, she took in the overwhelming size of the library. That, and the fact that it had no proper filing system. 

“All the problems that could be solved if you could just find the book you wanted,” she muttered. “I should work on _prying eyes_ while I’m at it.” 

Instead, Hermione went to work researching the quill Umbridge had made her use the previous two nights. While welding gloves were bulky, she quickly adjusted to flipping through books with them on. 

“Hey.” 

Hermione looked up from her book on magic quills. Her heart stopped when she saw Ron standing a few feet away. 

“H-hi.” 

Panic began to set in. She heard her heart beat louder, faster. 

“What… what happened over the summer?” he asked. 

_Don’t tell him you had other things on your mind._

“What do you mean?” 

“I wrote to you. All the time, but you never wrote back.” 

Hermione’s brain sped along and gave her hundreds of solutions. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Ron stood and glared at her. 

“Is that it?” 

“I… I really can’t talk right now. I’ve got to work out my next move against Umbridge, and then I’ve got work to do.” 

Hermione turned her gaze back towards her books, convincing herself that it was better that way. 

_It’s better this way._

_Best let him think I’m different._

_I’m against Umbridge, and he’s a prefect. I don’t even think we can be friends. His mum was so proud of him, I can’t take that from him._

_I don’t want to hurt him anymore._

“So that’s it, then? You’re just going to fight a whole war by yourself?” 

Hermione spared a glance at Ron and saw only anger in his eyes. Eyes that had once shone with kindness and admiration. 

_Just don’t tell him he wasn’t important enough. Let him think you’re blowing off everyone._

“If that’s what I’ve got to do.” 

He trembled for a moment, but neither his glare nor contempt faded. 

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll just stop wasting my time then.” 

Hermione kept her mouth shut. She didn’t speak a word as Ron lingered for just a second, offering her a final chance. She didn’t let her cool detachment falter. Not until Ron turned around and walked away. Only when she could no longer see him did she close her book. She’d already memorized it anyway. 

_It’s better this way. It’s better this way._

She repeated the same words over and over until she found the Room of Requirement. At first, she started asking for a place to hide, but she realized that wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted somewhere where she could stay and look back on the past. Somewhere she could feel safe for a moment before waging a war by herself. She couldn’t let any of her friends become involved. They’d only get hurt if they tried, and she couldn’t let that happen. 

_I can handle it on my own._

She opened the door to the Room of Requirement, then let it close behind her. She climbed on top of one of Rose’s crafting tables and drew her legs to her chest. 

There, surrounded by dead furnaces and empty tables, Hermione allowed herself to cry. 

_It’s alright, Brain. Uncle Oz says it’s okay to cry when you’re sad. Just cry until it stops hurting. Then we can face that pink thing together._


	6. All the Theory in the Plane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ron makes good use of theory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** The Rowling Plane continues to be owned by J.K. Rowling.

Cedric hurled another ball at Ron, who had a feeling he’d intentionally thrown it too low. Ron dipped his broom and shot earthward, knocking the ball away with his body. Cedric threw the next ball well above Ron’s head. Ron spun around, but couldn’t kill his momentum fast enough. The ball soared above his head, right through the trees they were using as goal posts. 

“The only shot you should ever block like that is the last one,” Cedric said. “Otherwise, they’ll recover the Quaffle and–” 

“I noticed!” Ron snapped. He looked down when he spotted movement. Sally-Anne tossed the ball back to Cedric. Ron caught her gaze for just a moment, then looked back to Cedric. 

“Sorry. Anything else?” 

“Honestly, I doubt you need this. Go in trying as hard as you are now, and you’ll be the best flier there. Most people won’t keep using their bodies to block.” 

Ron laughed. “Well, when you hang out with Rose, you get used to having things thrown at you.” 

Cedric chuckled. “That’ll play to your advantage. Some Keepers get scared and run off when they see Chasers moving in or a Bludger coming. Ravenclaw’s especially competitive about it. You’ll want to watch for them.” 

Ron nodded. “Thanks for the tip.” 

They practiced for another half an hour before calling it quits. The boys circled to the ground where Sally-Anne awaited them with a smile on her face. 

“I’m glad things are going well.” 

“Thanks for setting this up, I guess,” Ron said. 

“One last thing,” Cedric said. “I know it’s none of my business, but I’ve noticed that you and Hermione are avoiding each other.” 

“No, it’s not your business!” 

Ron was in no mood for advice or sympathy from anyone, least of all Cedric. Sally-Anne might’ve convinced him to practice with Cedric, but he wasn’t about to listen to him. Ron spun around and slammed right into a shimmering disc. 

_You think I’d be used to running into those things by now,_ he thought as the shield vanished and its mistress approached him. 

“Give him a chance, Ron. Please.” 

Ron turned and looked at Sally-Anne’s pleading eyes. He appreciated that she wasn’t guilting him into accepting help like his mum, or forcing it on him as he’d expected her to. She was asking him to accept help, and knowing her, it would be worth it. 

“Fine.” Ron folded his arms and slowly turned back towards Cedric. “What is it?” 

Beside him, Sally-Anne smiled at him. Ron didn’t know why, but he found her oddly distracting. 

“Like I said, it’s none of my business, but if it will throw you off your game, Slytherin’s going to make it their business.” 

Ron took a moment to let Cedric’s words sink in. He knew it was over between him and Hermione, but he couldn’t stop himself from looking at her at meals, or looking for her in the common room. Ron found himself longing to be with her, and jumped at any opportunity to see her. The days with Hermione were bittersweet, and he wanted desperately to return to them, although part of him knew he never could. 

Ron nodded at Cedric, whom he noticed was waiting for a response. “Thanks for the warning.” 

“Good luck tomorrow,” Cedric said. He casually turned and walked out of the courtyard, reminding Ron a little of Charlie with how relaxed he was. 

“Thanks,” Ron called after him. 

He and Sally-Anne watched Cedric leave, then Ron turned to Sally-Anne. “Well, you’ve managed to get me all to yourself.” 

Sally-Anne giggled, covering her mouth with one of her hands. “Yes, I thought I’d get a head start on lecturing you while we make our rounds.” She patted her shoulder, then laughed again. “Well, I forgot my pack. You?” 

Ron glanced at the broom in his hand, then smiled at her. “Nope. Fancy an evening walk up a moving staircase?” 

He offered her his arm, doing his best impression of Charlie. He’d practiced being “smooth” all summer, and he didn’t want to waste the effort. 

Sally-Anne laughed again, her face turning so red that she had to look away to contain herself. “I promise I’m not laughing at you,” she said before she’d recovered. “Promise, it’s just great to see you’re feeling somewhat better.” 

Ron smiled at her, happy someone appreciated his hard work. “Are you going to or not?” 

Sally-Anne moved her hands from her head to her waist as if dropping something on the floor. She kept her eyes shut until the smile faded from her face. 

“As much as I’d love to, I can’t for two reasons. First, while I know you’re just having a bit of fun, not everyone else will. And second… I don’t want you replacing Hermione with me.” 

Ron frowned and dropped his arm. “That’s mad! I’m not–” 

“I don’t think you’re trying to, but I think you’re still hurting over her.” Sally-Anne’s perfect smile was completely gone, and her eyes took on the faintest traces of sadness. “Dad says sometimes when people hurt like that, they try to take it away however they can.” 

Ron felt an emptiness in his chest, much like he’d felt at the ball after he’d made Hermione run off crying. He just wanted to lie down and not get back up. 

“Oh, Ron, I’m so sorry.” 

Sally-Anne reached out and hugged him, and for a moment, some of the pain went away. Ron couldn’t find the energy to hug her back, but he stood and enjoyed the quick escape from his troubles. 

“She shouldn’t have shut you out like that. After everything you did for her, you deserve so much better.” 

Ron snapped out of his stupor and pulled away from Sally-Anne. “I’m fine.” 

She looked back at him, and he had the strangest feeling that she was trying to steal some of his pain for herself. Her eyes were so sad, but it felt as if it would all vanish once he did. 

Sally-Anne was such an odd person. 

“You’re weird,” Ron said. 

Sally-Anne let out an involuntary laugh. “Thank you. I do try.” She looked around the empty courtyard. “It’ll be time for supper soon, so we should get going.” 

* * *

Hermione and Harry sat through Potions on Friday, with Hermione running through her proposal every few minutes until she had it perfect. She knew what she wanted to say; she just hoped Professor Snape would agree. If he didn’t, they’d need a backup plan, which they didn’t have, and he wasn’t exactly known for his kindness towards Gryffindor. 

Hermione’s heat skipped a beat when class finished. It was the moment she’d been dreading for hours, but she held fast. She met up with Harry, and they approached Snape. 

“This is a bad idea,” Harry muttered. 

“Too bad.” Hermione smiled, although it occurred to her that that was a mistake after she spoke. “Professor Snape?” 

“Peta-Lorrum, I’m–” Snape glowered at his desk for an awkward moment, then turned his anger at them. “What do you want, Granger?” 

Hermione found herself caught off guard by Snape’s outburst, but she quickly recovered. “We’d like you to teach us defence.” 

Hermione listened to her heartbeat, which was easily louder than anything else in the room. While anxious for Snape’s reply, she refused to allow herself to believe it was a bad idea. 

“Why?” he asked, breaking the silence. 

“You apply for the post every year. You’re the most qualified person in Hogwarts to teach the subject.” 

“You’ve got a teacher.” Snape looked down at his notes, apparently assuming they’d leave if he ignored them. 

Harry let out a quick laugh, and Hermione shot him a glare. 

“Umbridge refuses to teach us any practical defence,” Hermione explained. “Rose used to say all the theory in the plane is useless without experience.” 

Snape turned his glare back on them. He focused on Harry for a moment, then looked back to Hermione. “What makes you think I’m qualified? Perhaps there’s a reason I’ve been denied the post.” 

Hermione realized she had no answer to that. She’d just assumed he’d be good at it. Perhaps Harry was right; one of the other professors would be better. 

“Didn’t you used to be a Death Eater?” Harry said, loud enough that Hermione glanced back to make sure no one was around to hear. “That’s got to be more ‘practical experience’ than anyone in school!” 

Hermione simultaneously cursed and praised Harry. She didn’t condone his delivery, but couldn’t argue with him, a sentiment she immediately expressed to Professor Snape. 

“Neither of you has an issue learning from me?” Snape asked. 

“Rose liked you, so no,” Hermione said before Harry could undo his own efforts. 

Snape gave them another analytical glare, then said, “Sunday, three o’clock, my office. If either of you are late, the lessons end. Now go away.” 

Hermione smiled a little too broadly. “Thank you, professor.” 

“If you can’t understand a concept as simple as ‘go away’, perhaps we should end now.” 

Hermione and Harry grabbed their packs and left the room without another word. 

* * *

Ron walked with Sally-Anne to the Pitch that afternoon. His hands were clammy, and butterflies filled his stomach. He tried swallowing, but his mouth was too dry. He shifted his broom around in his hands, then looked back to see if anyone was behind him. 

“It’s alright,” Sally-Anne said. Her voice was smooth and calm, bringing some comfort with it. “No need to be so nervous.” 

Ron tried to smile at her, but he couldn’t manage a real smile. All he got was a smile even he knew was fake. 

“Easy for you to say,” he said, his voice hoarse. “You’re not the one trying out for the team.” 

“Even better, you are.” She smiled at him with her perfect smile. “And you’re going to make it. Cedric said you’re the best Gryffindor’s got, and I know he’s right. Remember, I had to assess everyone last year.” She frowned for a moment, but her smile returned quickly. “Again, don’t tell anyone about that. I don’t need them knowing.” 

Ron nodded. He’d been annoyed that Sally-Anne hadn’t put him on the team at first, but he wasn’t anymore. After all, she’d only been allowed one member of Gryffindor, and Harry was the obvious choice. 

“If I’d had a second pick… actually, to be honest, it’d have been Angelina, but you were up there.” 

Ron found it easier to smile at that. He stood up a little straighter, his confidence slowly returning. 

“Remember, do your best, then you won’t be disappointed.” Sally-Anne smiled again when they reached the pitch. “Be sure of yourself, and show them nothing less than your best.” 

“You just said that.” 

“Just making sure you’re still paying attention.” She glanced around, then kissed him on the cheek. “For good luck. I’ll be there to cheer you on.” 

Sally-Anne walked off and took a seat in the stands. Ron walked into the Pitch and took his place with the other hopefuls. 

Angelina stood in front of them, and behind her stood the rest of the team. Harry frowned when he saw Ron. Ron saw him glance behind him, and, judging by the smile he gave Ron, Sally-Anne had given him her standard death glare. 

“Alright, here’s how this goes!” Angelina barked. “Each of you will take the goal, and we’ll try to score on you for five minutes. The longer you last, the better your chances are of making the team. When you block the Quaffle, you will _immediately_ pass it to one of us. It doesn’t matter to whom, so don’t hold it.” She pointed at Seamus, who was at the other end of the line from Ron. “Finnigan, we’ll start with you.” 

Seamus gulped nervously, then stepped forward and took to the air. The other players joined him, with Harry flying well above the others. 

_They haven’t got a Snitch, so what’s he doing?_ Ron wondered. 

He squinted to see Harry, then saw a small object in his hand. 

_Of course. He’s timing._

Angelina tossed the Quaffle to Katie, then shouted “BEGIN!” 

Katie flew at Seamus, on a direct line for one of the goal posts. Seamus dipped down and knocked the Quaffle away when Katie tried to score. 

_No, you want to keep control of it._

Alicia darted towards the Quaffle. She grabbed it and tossed it into the post to Seamus’s right before he even realized what was happening. 

Some of the other contestants snickered at Seamus’s mistake. Ron glared at them, and he caught Sally-Anne doing the same out of the corner of his eye. 

“Potter?” Angelina called. 

“Ten seconds!” 

“Alright!” Angelina pointed to another student and called them up. They went down the line, which put Ron as the last candidate. Some did well, others didn’t block a single shot. The ones that did well were smug or excited about it. The ones that did poorly were sad or angry. Ron tried cheering up the first few, but gave up after he got nothing from them. 

He glanced back at Sally-Anne, wondering how she managed it. She was watching the tryouts, but smiled at him when she saw him looking at her. 

_Almost,_ she mouthed. 

He smiled at her, hoping he looked better than he felt. The best time so far was a minute, nineteen seconds, set by Alex’s cousin, Jonathon. After watching people fail after five seconds, Ron was nervous. Eighty seconds was a long time when you were fending off an assault from the Gryffindor Quidditch team, along with the occasional Bludger from Fred and George. 

“Weasley!” 

“What?” the Twins called in unison. 

With one last glance at Sally-Anne for good luck, Ron took to the air. No sooner had he reached the goal post, than Alicia hurtled towards him, albeit without the Quaffle. 

_They’re faking me out. If I go for her, Katie throws it in. If I don’t, she passes to Alicia so she can score._

Ron kept his eyes trained on the Quaffle. He drifted to his right, cutting off Katie and Alicia. With a direct line of sight to Katie, he could see her eyes weren’t following him; they were following something else that seemed to be circling around the posts. 

_Not easing up for a second, then,_ Ron thought. 

Katie drew back her arm, but Ron didn’t move. Katie handed it off to Alicia as she flew by. Alicia tried tossing it into the middle post as she flew past Katie. 

Using Katie’s eyes as a guide, Ron was already on his way to the middle post. He intercepted the Quaffle, then tossed it back to Angelina as Sally-Anne cheered. 

Katie and Alicia made another attempt to score, tossing the Quaffle between them the second time. Ron stayed focused on the Quaffle, waited until just after one of them threw it to the other, then grabbed it from between the two of them. He circled back around the posts before handing it off to Angelina so they could begin again. 

They came at him from every angle, but it was still chess, and he knew every play. He’d watched loads of practices with Harry, and Sally-Anne had told him all about the practices the previous year. Unfortunately, like his practices with Cedric, he was getting tired. He noticed Angelina whisper something to Harry, something he’d seen them doing at least once before. How long had it been? It must’ve been long enough, right? 

All three Chasers came at him, flying around one another, tossing the Quaffle back and forth. The only way to stop it was to have another Chaser run interference while another grabbed the Quaffle. But Ron wasn’t about to give up. Without taking his eyes off the Quaffle, he flew straight at Angelina when she got the Quaffle. He stayed focused on her, ignoring her smirk. She hurled the Quaffle to his left, straight at one of the goal posts. He didn’t have a chance at banking; he’d needed to come in too fast in order to fake her out. 

_It’s called feinting, Cohort._

_I know, Rose,_ he told the imaginary Rose that lived inside his head. _I haven’t forgotten this tactic either._

Ron hopped up on his broom, spun around to face the Quaffle, and leapt off. He grabbed the Quaffle, then slammed into the goal post, successfully blocking the shot. 

_Win._

He felt the familiar feeling of plummeting towards the ground, but unlike last time, he had _feather fall_. Unless he’d forgotten to put the ring on that morning. 

_Well, we’re about to find out._

A few feet above the ground, a hand shot out and grabbed him. 

“I believe that’s _my_ trick,” Harry said as he lowered Ron to the ground. 

“Jefferson Zane.” 

“What?” Harry asked. 

“He won the 1966 World Cup by jumping off his broom to catch the Snitch. Technically, it’s _his_ trick.” 

Ron and Harry laughed as the rest of the team joined them. 

“Told him his time yet?” Angelina asked Harry. 

“Not yet, Captain Johnson, sir!” he barked. 

Angelina rolled her eyes, and muttered something Ron couldn’t make out. “Go on, then.” 

Harry looked at the watch in his hand. “Stopping at the time I dove for you, nine minutes, fourteen seconds.” 

“Ron!” 

Sally-Anne nearly knocked him over with her hug. 

“Don’t do that!” she exclaimed. “Do you know how scared I was?” 

“ _Feather fall,_ ” Ron and Harry said. 

“I don’t care if you can fly without a broom!” she shot back. “I hate this game! It’s reckless, and stupid, and someone’s going to get hurt if you keep that!” 

“He made the team,” Harry said. “Best time by a long shot.” 

“Congratulations!” Sally-Anne exclaimed, her tone once again making a complete shift. “I knew you could do it.” 

* * *

Sunday morning, Neville took a seat at the Ravenclaw table across from Luna. At least, across from a copy of the _Quibbler_ with Luna’s body. 

“Good morning, Moon,” he said. “Did you sleep alright?” 

She looked up from the _Quibbler_ , and he saw her face for the first time. Her eyes were faintly pink, and her smile was sad. 

_She’s been crying again._

“I did, thank you.” She broadened her fake smile. “What about you?” 

Neville thought back to his dream, inspired, he was sure, by something Rose had told him. In it, he’d fought against Rose, trying to snap her out of some frenzy. Then Valignatiejir would appear, and they’d fight him. It was such a strange dream, but Neville didn’t care. He got to see Rose again, and give that dragon what it deserved. 

“Alright.” He glanced back at his friends at Gryffindor. “It might just be us for Hogsmeade today. Hermione’s got detention, although I don’t know why on a Sunday. Harry wanted to wait with her, so he’s gone. Sally-Anne and Ron are doing prefect things, and Ginny said she’s going with someone, so it’s just us.” 

Luna’s smile faded from her face. A shadow fell over her, and she broke eye contact with Neville. 

“I’m not going. I’d rather stay here.” 

Neville’s first instinct was to let her be, but then he thought about Rose. He remembered how she’d glare at anyone that laughed at Luna. 

_Take care of my sister,_ Rose would say. 

“I’m not letting my best friend’s little sister stay here and sulk,” Neville said. “We’re gonna go to Hogsmeade, and for her sake, we’re gonna have fun. Cos if there’s one thing Rose would want us to do, it’s have fun.” 

Luna slowly looked up at him, and her crooked smile returned to her face. 

“Only if Tutela can come.” 

“Of course she can.” He laughed at the faint bark he heard. 

_Don’t worry about Little Moon, Rose. I’ll take care of her for you._

Neville nodded at the Quibbler. “What’s it about?” 

Luna looked left, then right, then leaned in so close that Neville could hear her breathing. 

Neville simply tapped his ear. 

Luna turned a faint shade of pink, then activated her own earpods. 

“Vampires. We think Fudge has been replaced by one.” 

Luna spent the next few minutes laying out their arguments while Neville chewed thoughtfully on a piece of bacon. 

“Really? No one’s seen him outside since last June?” 

“Since the night of the Third Task.” 

Neville took a bite of a maple scone, pondering Luna’s theory. 

_This calls for an investigation! Everyone, prep your perception checks!_

“I think we should investigate,” Neville said. 

“What about Hogsmeade?” 

“Forget about Hogsmeade. People are disappearing at night, and Fudge won’t leave his office during the day. Of course he doesn’t want people poking around.” Neville grinned at Luna. “Let’s go solve the mystery of the Minister Who’s Afraid of the Sun.” 

As they finished their breakfast, Neville and Luna pondered ways of finding out what Fudge was doing all day. Near the end of breakfast, Neville realized they had a witness right there in Hogwarts. 

“I don’t think we can just ask her when the last time she saw Fudge out and about during the day was,” Neville said. 

“Why not?” Luna asked. 

Neville laughed for a moment, then straightened up when he realized that she was serious. 

“It… erm…” He stopped for a moment to suppress the sudden feeling of butterflies in his stomach. “We can’t because…” 

“Right. She might be in on it too.” Luna’s eyes went wide, although her normally wide-eyed stare made it hard to tell. “What if she’s a vampire too?” 

Neville looked up at Umbridge. She didn’t look like a vampire, but she could’ve been using magic to disguise herself. What were the ways to identify vampires again? 

_You should know this, Toad,_ Rose’s voice said. 

He turned back to Luna to find her writing in a notebook. Her eyes didn’t so much as wander away from her work for a second. 

“What are you doing?” 

Luna gave no response, not even an acknowledgment that she’d heard him. 

“Luna?” 

Still no reaction from Luna. Like a loyal house-elf following orders, she remained focused on her work, blocking out everything else. 

“What’s Luna doing?” Melody asked. 

Neville shrugged. “She just started writing in her notebook. She hasn’t spoken in a few minutes.” Neville watched Luna, waiting for her to finish. After another few minutes, he gave up and turned to Melody. “How was your summer?” 

“Good, I guess,” Melody glanced over at the Gryffindor table. “A little confusing. Did… erm…” 

“What is it?” 

“You knew Rose, right?” 

Neville’s face fell, but he carried on talking. “She was the best friend I’ve ever had.” 

“Is it… is it true what they’re saying? That she… committed suicide?” 

Neville glared at his empty plate as if it’d murdered his friends and family. “No, it isn’t. Rose wasn’t mad; she just found it easier for people to think she was. People don’t take you seriously if they think you’re mad, so she could catch them off guard.” 

“That’s what I thought!” Melody exclaimed, looking as if she were pleading for forgiveness. “But then the _Daily Prophet_ said she had, and it was calling Professor Dumbledore a liar, but Rose was always so nice, but then Mummy said some mad people just were, and even Daddy agreed, and–” 

“Calm down, Melody,” Neville said, putting a hand on her shoulder in his best imitation of Alavel. “It’s… it’s alright. Let’s talk about something else. You just started third year, right? What classes are you taking?” 

“Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. I wanted to take Care for Magical Creatures, but Mummy said it’d be a waste of time, just like Divination.” 

Neville shrugged. “Divination’s got its moments, but there aren’t a lot of them.” 

“Then Daddy said Muggles weren’t worth studying, so that just left Arithmancy and Ancient Runes.” 

Neville scowled, glanced at his own table, then returned his gaze to Melody. “First off, Muggles are amazing.” He held up the watch Hermione had given him the previous year. “This is just clockwork, no magic, but I’d have died ten times over last year without it.” 

Melody frowned. “It’s… it’s just a watch.” 

Neville pushed the button on the side, and the top popped open to reveal the compass underneath. “It’s also a compass. Possibly the best thing every invented.” 

Melody nodded, not understanding why Neville thought it was so great. He started to try explaining, but stopped when he realized he couldn’t tell her that he’d spent so much time in the Forbidden Forest. 

“Care’s probably my third favorite class, and easily the best of the lot we start taking in third year.” He turned to Luna, who was still scribbling away in her notebook. “Right, Luna?” 

No response. 

“She’d agree if she could hear me. It’s her favorite class.” 


	7. At Our Best and at Our Worst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hermione gets along better with professors than students.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling owns the Ministry of Magic and all its resulting frustration.

“I want the essay for Saturn finished for class in two weeks,” Professor Sinistra told them as they packed up after Astronomy. “After we’re finished on Saturn, we’re going to move on to Jupiter.” 

Hermione collapsed her telescope and dropped it in her pack. On her way out, she glanced up at the stars. They blanketed the sky in a dazzling display of white. People pushed past her as she stood and stared. 

_They see us at our best and at our worst._

Hermione blinked a tear away. Her mind drifted back to the times she and Rose would watch the stars while camping. Neither of them needed much sleep; just the two of them, staring up at the top of world. 

“Ms. Granger, while I don’t discourage stargazing, I’d think you’d rather like to return to your room and rest.” 

Hermione jumped and looked at Professor Sinistra. 

“Sorry, Professor.” 

“You’ve nothing to apologize for,” Sinistra replied with a smile. “I’m… I’m sure you’ve heard this plenty, but I am sorry about Ms. Peta-Lorrum. Even if she did glare at me for no reason.” 

A smile found its way to Hermione’s face. 

“Right, she did.” 

Professor Sinistra scowled at her. “I fail to see the humor in it.” 

Hermione covered her mouth as she fought to get herself under control. “Sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just… I asked her about it once, and she never realized she was doing it.” 

“I’m pretty sure I heard her growling at me once,” Sinistra said. “How in the world did she not realize she was doing that?” 

“It’s not you,” Hermione said. “It’s…” Hermione’s voice trailed off when she realized what the reason really was. She’d almost forgotten about it. 

“Yes?” Professor Sinistra asked. “I’d quite like to know about it.” 

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to gather a coherent story of Rose’s world. 

“There was… there was this woman in… this woman Rose knew called Aurora Lux. She came off as a friend at first, but she stabbed Rose’s brother and his friends in the back and left them for dead.” 

Professor Sinistra nodded slowly, wrapping her head around Hermione’s words. 

“So you think she was glaring at me because my first name is Aurora?” 

“She wasn’t glaring at you, just sort of… at the memory of what Aurora did.” Hermione paused for a moment, then decided it was okay to continue. “See, Aurora didn’t just stab her brother in the back, but convinced her brother and his friends to abandon Rose’s friend Shadow. Erm…” Hermione struggled to find a way to explain Rose’s relationship with Shadow. “Basically, if Rose had a choice of saving me or Shadow, she’d probably save Shadow and leave me to die. That’s how much she cared about her, and Aurora made Shadow cry.” 

Sinistra nodded again, evidently more understanding of that statement than the last. 

“I take it this Lux woman is now dead?” 

That one was easy to remember; Rose whined about it every time the topic of “the vengeful _jato_ ” came up. 

“No, she’s alive, but only because Rose’s friend Carolina was there to stop her. Think Professor McGonagall, but with the same saintly attitude as Sally-Anne; that’s basically Carolina.” 

Sinistra’s eyes went wide for just a moment. 

“On that note, I think it best that you get back to your room,” Sinistra said. “Thank you, Ms. Granger, for telling me all this.” 

“You’re welcome, Professor,” Hermione replied. “Have a good night.” 

“Same to you.” 

* * *

“You will not be learning to fight back, but how to defend yourself,” Professor Snape said. “There will be homework, tests, and theory in this class. If I decide I’m wasting my time, then these lessons will stop immediately. I will be using spells on you, in order to build up a resistance to them. You may find my methods unfair, immoral, or illegal, but I will remind you both that you are here by choice. If you like, you may go complain to Dumbledore and prove that neither of you deserve a seat at the grownup table.” 

Harry glanced at Hermione, who was scribbling down everything Professor Snape said without looking at her paper. Harry didn’t know how she managed it, especially with her hand still in the shape it was. 

“Among other topics, we will be covering the Unforgivable Curses, Legilimency and Occlumency, Inferi, Dementors, and dueling. I will be using all manner of curses, charms, and hexes on both of you. If you’re not ready, you will suffer the consequences.” 

“What?!” Harry exclaimed. “ _On_ us?” 

Snape drew his wand and fired an orange bolt at Harry. Harry had his wand out in a second, but hesitated when he couldn’t think of a spell to block it. The only word that came into his head was _strada_ , but he knew that was just the Shield Rune’s incantation. 

The bolt stopped midway to him, then dispersed into hundreds of tiny orange stars. 

Harry frowned at the dissipating stars. He’d had never seen a spell do that before. Was it supposed to do that? 

He glanced at Hermione, then stared at her when she saw her with her right hand out, and her left hand to her head. 

“Neat trick, Granger,” Snape said. “Care to explain to Potter what you just did?” 

Hermione wiped sweat from her brow. “Disassembled the spell in mid-flight.” 

“And what spell did I cast?” 

“Stinging Hex.” 

“Good.” Glaring at Harry, he added, “at least someone pays attention in my class.” He loomed over Harry, then crouched down to put himself closer to Harry’s face. “Remember, Potter, you will pay attention in my class. Failure to do so will give me another chance to teach you how to resist dark magic, and you will learn.” 

He returned to the front of the classroom. “We’ll begin on something easy so Potter can keep up.” 

* * *

Later that evening, Neville made his way to the library. He glanced at the part of the library where the secret passage to Hogsmeade lay, having a momentary flash of himself nearly crushed by rocks, then walked up to the main desk. 

“I’m looking for–” 

“Ms. Lovegood has made a nest for herself over there,” Madame Pince said. Without looking up from her work, she pointed to a section of the library not far from the secret passage. 

“Thank you,” Neville whispered. 

Neville walked over to the section Pince had indicated. Sure enough, he found Luna, and what Pince had meant by “nest”. Luna had surrounded herself with papers and books. At least four books were open, and a dozen more were in various stacks. Every so often, she’d write something in a notebook on her lap. 

“Hey, Luna,” he whispered. 

Luna didn’t stop writing at first. It’d been a common occurrence as of late. The girl that would talk at length about anything apart from herself would often become so focused on her work, she’d block out everyone else. He still didn’t know why; all he’d get from her was “Daddy does that sometimes too.” 

Neville waited until she jabbed the paper with her pencil (which itself was a late birthday present from Hermione), indicating that she’d finished the sentence. 

“Salutations, Toad,” Luna said. “I think we might be on to something.” 

“Really?” Neville asked, shock more apparent in his voice than he would’ve liked. He took a seat next to her and glanced at the books she was reading. One had a picture of a bunch of men in fancy robes, another had a labeled diagram of garlic. 

“They haven’t used garlic in the Ministry’s food in 20 years,” Luna said. She pointed at the picture of the men. “The last time they used it in anything was the day of their Christmas party in 1975.” She turned the page to a different set of men. “In 1976, much of the staff changed, and they stopped using it for the party. Then, in 1980, they stopped serving it at all.” 

Neville looked at the picture again, then at Luna. She smiled at him, looking awfully proud of herself. 

“That can’t be a coincidence,” Neville said. “Although, some people just don’t like garlic.” 

Luna tilted her head, sending her long, scraggly hair tumbling to the side. “Really? Why not?” 

Neville shrugged. “Beats me. It tastes great when Gran adds it to her spaghetti sauce.” 

“And it wards off vampires.” 

“And it wards off vampires.” 

Neville grabbed a book from one of Luna’s stacks. He began flipping through, trying to see Luna’s goal. 

“That’s a history of the DMLE,” Luna said. 

“Didn’t you say they’d been infiltrated by some organization?” he asked. 

“The Rotfang Conspiracy.” She placed her book in one of the piles and grabbed another one. 

Neville leafed through his own book. He didn’t know what he was looking for; evidence that the DMLE was in on it? 

“Hold on,” he said, spotting something of significance. “That’s the spice shop in Diagon Alley.” 

Luna climbed over her nest and peered at the book upside down. Her eyes scanned the page. She frowned at the text when she finished. 

“Owned by a former head of the DMLE’s brother,” she read. “They might not be in on it.” 

Everything clicked in Neville’s head. He nearly lept to his feet. 

“I’ve got it!” he exclaimed. 

“Sh!” came a hiss from Madame Pince. 

“I’ve got it,” Neville whispered, pride overshadowing his embarrassment. “You said the Rotfang Conspiracy’s using gum disease to take over the world, right?” 

Luna nodded, her eyes fixed on him. 

“Well, if vampires control the Ministry, then they’ll want to take down the conspiracy, because vampires _need_ their teeth!” 

Luna wrinkled her nose in thought. Neville eagerly awaited her answer. 

“The conspiracy controls the DMLE, so they’ll be using garlic as a weapon against the rest of them,” she said. “Good work, Toad.” 

Neville beamed with pride. He of all people had been the one to solve the first part of the mystery. His victory was made all the sweeter by Luna’s smile. For once, he knew he was doing a good job; he didn’t need Rose to tell him. Even then, hew knew what she’d do. She’d grin at him, and say “Good work, Toad.” Just like her sister had. 

* * *

Hermione arrived at Professor Vector’s office Wednesday morning. She shifted her gloves around, not enough to show the marks hidden beneath them, but enough that she could get some air flowing over her hands. She couldn’t figure out how Rose wore them all day long, all the time. Her hands were already covered in sweat from wearing them for the time she had. 

_Why would it bother me? Different types of gloves don’t have any actual effects. Just like it makes no difference what’s in your face slot when it’s raining, just what it does. Silly Brain._

She opened the door to Professor Vector’s office, and found not only her, but Cedric waiting for her. He smiled at her as she closed the door. She gave a smile, although she felt her eyes scowling. 

“Hi, Cedric,” Hermione said, her voice sharing confusion with her eyes. “What are you doing here?” 

“We thought we would both talk with you,” Professor Vector said. “I’ve been talking to Cedric about a concern we’ve both had for the past few weeks.” 

_Oh no._

Professor Vector motioned to the empty seat in front of her desk. “Please, take a seat.” 

Hermione looked at Cedric again, then back at the closed door. She couldn’t shake the feeling of walking into a trap, although she couldn’t see another option. 

After she’d taken her seat, Professor Vector continued. 

“I’ll get straight to the point,” she said. “Please remove your gloves.” 

“What for?” 

“Because it’s more than just… what was the word you used… paying homage to her,” Cedric said. “All three of us know you’re hiding something under them, and we’re worried.” 

“You aren’t in any trouble,” Professor Vector added. “We just want to make sure you’re alright.” 

Hermione looked at her two companions again. “I’d really rather not.” 

“Remove your gloves, or I’ll fail you out of Arithmancy.” 

Hermione’s heart stopped, and she felt a sudden urge to vomit. Professor Vector’s stare bore a hole right through her, not unlike the worst of Professor McGonagall’s glares. Hermione didn’t know if she’d follow through on it, but she wasn’t about to wait and find out. 

“Alright,” Hermione said. “You win.” 

Hermione slowly removed her gloves. She pulled the left one first and felt a sudden chill when fresh air hit her sweat-soaked hand. It felt odd not having the rough interior of the glove to cover her hand. She stretched her fingers for a moment, adjusting to not having the glove on. 

Before Hermione removed her right glove, she glanced up at Professor Vector. She was still watching Hermione, waiting for her to remove the other glove. There was no getting out of it. 

Hermione pulled the second one off an inch at a time, wincing when it caught the marks on her hand. 

“Hermione,” Cedric breathed. “What did you do?” 

“I don’t know what Peta-Lorrum told you was acceptable, but harming yourself–” 

Hermione shook her head. “It’s not what it looks like.” 

“Isn’t it?” Professor Vector asked. “It looks like you took it upon yourself to cut into your own skin as punishment for disrupting class.” 

“That’s sort of what happened,” Hermione said. For a moment, she wished she could cast _teleport_ or _dimension door_. Anything that would free her from having to remember her detentions with Umbridge. 

“Mind telling us the whole story?” Cedric asked. 

“I… I don’t need help!” Hermione could hear the sobs in her own voice. She didn’t want to imagine how she must’ve looked to Cedric and Professor Vector. 

“We just want to know what happened,” Professor Vector said calmly. “That’s all.” 

Hermione looked away from both of them to allow herself to calm down. When that didn’t work, she squeezed her eyes shut. 

“The first day of class, Umbridge tried telling everyone that Rose killed herself. She said some _dürah_ about how it didn’t come as a surprise. I lashed out at her, calling her a liar. She gave me detention that night, and told me to write lines with a quill without ink. When I wrote, the quill produced ink, and I realized it was carving the words I wrote into my hand.” 

Hermione opened her eyes, slowly at first, then wiped the tears out of them. When the rest of the room came into focus, she found Professor Vector staring at her still. This time, she wasn’t concerned; she was angry. For a moment, Hermione could almost hear Rose’s voice. 

“Does anyone else know about this?” Professor Vector asked. Her voice was low and foreboding. 

“Just Harry, and only because he was waiting for me outside her office.” 

Professor Vector turned to Cedric. “Fetch Professor McGonagall. Tell her to drop what she’s doing and come here immediately.” 

“No!” Hermione exclaimed. “I don’t want anyone to know about this!” 

“Now, Diggory. Do as I say.” 

Cedric looked at Hermione again. “I’m sorry, Hermione. But she’s right.” 

Cedric went for the door. Acting entirely on instinct, Hermione began casting a spell. If they weren’t going to listen, then she was going to make them listen. 

“What if it had been Ms. Lovegood or Ms. Weasley in your place? What would you urge them to do?” 

Hermione lowered her hand and settled into her seat. She allowed Cedric to leave, then spoke as soon as the door slammed shut. 

“It’s different,” Hermione said. “I’m not afraid of Umbridge. I didn’t stop writing, I didn’t cry around her, and I didn’t show weakness. She’s wrong, and I’m not going to take any of that from her. She’s wrong about Rose, and stating it as fact is an insult to her memory. I don’t care how many times she makes me hurt myself, I’m not going to give in.” 

She glared back at Professor Vector. Hermione knew she was right; she could take it. She had recovered from the Cruciatus Curse; this was _nothing_ compared to that. 

“Finished?” Professor Vector asked. 

“For now.” 

“Good. Because we’re not talking about you right now. I have no doubt that this is child’s play compared to what you’ve been through, but that’s not what’s at stake here. While Mr. Diggory may be concerned solely about you, and perhaps the students he oversees, the staff are concerned about all students. If she did this to you– you, Ms. Killed-or-Worse-Expelled–” 

“I said that once!” Hermione exclaimed. “Once! Who even–” 

“Peeves.” 

“Of course it was Peeves,” Hermione muttered. “Or the Twins. Or both! They’re probably working together.” 

“The point is, if she saw fit to punish a nearly perfect student such as yourself, for a single outburst, and with such extreme measures, I imagine she’ll see fit to use such a punishment on all students that step out of line. First-year, seventh-year, boy, girl, I doubt any of that matters to her.” 

Hermione pondered Professor Vector’s words for a moment. _Anyone_ could be at risk: Luna, Ginny, Harry. Sally-Anne was likely the only one safe, but only because she was better at keeping to the rules than they were. Neville could keep his temper easily, but Ginny would be the next most likely victim. It was only a matter of time before she blew up at Umbridge, or blew up Umbridge, whichever came first. 

“I understand,” Hermione said. 

“Good.” 

Not a minute later, Professor McGonagall burst through the door, with Cedric and Angelina in tow. 

“Show me,” she ordered. 

Hermione held up her hand so Professor McGonagall could study it. 

“Right, first of all, Ms. Granger, are you alright?” 

“Angry that a member of staff is blatantly lying about how my best friend died, but apart from that, _kethé_.” 

“Good. Why didn’t you tell anyone about this?” 

“I didn’t want to give Umbridge the satisfaction of me complaining about it.” 

“And you’ve taken no action to deal with this yourself?” 

“Apart from hiding it under gloves, no.” 

Professor McGonagall nodded, then looked to Professor Vector. “All of you, come with me. We’re going to see Professor Dumbledore.” 

Professor McGonagall led their procession up to the seventh floor, and straight to Professor Dumbledore’s office. Professor Vector followed close behind, with Cedric and Angelina on either side of Hermione. 

“You could’ve said something,” Angelina said. “I know I’m not your prefect, but you could’ve come to me with this.” 

“I don’t know if I’d have even gone to Alex,” Hermione said. “No offence to either of you, but I actually doubt she’d have given me a choice.” 

“Professor Vector’s right, though,” Cedric said. “Who knows how many people she’s done this to?” 

“I’m trying not to think about it,” Hermione said. 

Professor McGonagall barked a password to the gargoyle, which lept aside to allow them all to ascend the stairs. She flung the door open when she reached the top of the stairs, and stormed straight up to Professor Dumbledore’s desk. 

Professor Dumbledore took a quick glance at the assembled group in his office, then turned his attention back to McGonagall. 

“Minerva, how may I help you?” 

Professor McGonagall motioned to Hermione to step forward, and Hermione slipped off her glove again. 

“This is what that woman is doing to your students, Albus,” she hissed. 

Dumbledore studied Hermione’s hand for a moment, then turned to Hermione. 

“Ms. Granger, would you care to explain?” 

Hermione gave another recollection of her detention with Umbridge. Dumbledore’s face didn’t change once as she spoke. If anything about it bothered him, he didn’t show it. 

“Do you honestly believe the Minister allowed that?” McGonagall hissed. 

“I’m sure Dolores could produce the parchment with his signature on it if you asked her,” Dumbledore replied. “I doubt it’d take her more than a few minutes, regardless of when you asked.” 

“So we’re going to relive two years ago?” McGonagall asked. “With us telling you to stop dragging your feet, and you telling us your hands are tied?” 

Dumbledore glared at McGonagall, but to Hermione’s surprise, she didn’t back down. 

“You think she’s the last?” McGonagall asked. “How many more, Albus?” 

“What do you expect me to do, Minerva?” he replied, as calmly as ever. “Sack her? Need I remind you, I didn’t hire her, and thus don’t possess the ability to sack her. If we want to remove her, we must appeal to Cornelius, who refuses to see reason in regard to Hogwarts. So again, what do you expect me to do?” 

McGonagall glared at Dumbledore, but she stepped back nonetheless. 

“Ms. Granger, I am sorry that you’ve been caught up in this,” Dumbledore said. “Is your hand alright?” 

“Fine,” Hermione replied. 

Dumbledore studied her for a moment. Hermione stared back at him, knowing full well that any attempts at invading her mind were futile. 

“I will remind you that Ms. Peta-Lorrum was only allowed to stay because we all knew how pointless expelling her would be.” 

“Like you said, even getting rid of Umbridge won’t do any good,” Hermione said, “and making her life miserable probably won’t help.” 

_No matter how much better it’d make me feel._

“I will discuss her disciplinary methods with her,” Dumbledore said, “and recommend that she use our standard methods of punishment. I will also advise that you all let this go for the time being, but please, report any further incidents of this nature to me or another member of staff.” 

* * *

Sunday morning, an announcement was made that Defence Against the Dark Arts would be cancelled for the following week. The news came just before the mail arrived, giving them the rest of the story with the _Daily Prophet_. 

“Formal inquisition?” Hermione asked after she finished reading the article. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Sally-Anne held up one finger. “Our first year, we were attacked by a troll, a dragon, and a teacher.” Another finger went up. “Our second year, we were all nearly killed by a basilisk. The castle nearly came down on top of us our third year, and Rose died last year. That’s four—” 

“Then why aren’t they looking into that?” Hermione shot back, briefly lamenting the fact that Sally-Anne was the only one still reading the _Daily Prophet_. She doubted she’d have been having an argument with Neville or Harry. 

“They really can’t,” Sally-Anne replied. “They haven’t got a body anymore, since Taltria and Alavel brought it out to sea, and—” 

“There’s a good reason for that. If Fudge got his slimy hands on her, who knows what he’d be able to scrape off from her magic!” 

“They can’t investigate without a body, so as far as they know, she killed herself.” 

“You can’t actually believe what they’ve been saying!” 

Hermione realized she’d screamed louder than she’d wanted, but in the Great Hall during breakfast, no one noticed. The only one whose attention she’d drawn was Ron’s, but she did that without yelling. 

“I don’t, but they’ve got nothing else apart from Harry’s word, and while that’s good enough for me, it wouldn’t be for them. So far as people here know, it’s not possible to come back from the dead. If He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named—” 

“Voldemort.” 

“—is back from the dead, no one knows how he did it.” 

Not for the first time in the past month, Hermione had an answer, but wasn’t allowed to say it. She knew how; Rose had explained how Horcruxes worked. With Voldemort’s soul bound to the physical world, he’d just needed to recreate a body for it to inhabit. Unfortunately for her, she couldn’t tell anyone that without them asking how she knew about any of it. She’d looked for books on Horcruxes in the library, but she couldn’t find anything. 

“Coming back to my original point, it’s not safe here. Perhaps it’s time someone looked into why nothing seems to go right around here.” 

Hermione knew the answer to that, too: Voldemort, Sylvia, and Fudge. If Fudge hadn’t sent Dementors their third year, everything would’ve been fine. If Sylvia hadn’t hijacked the diary (or Malfoy hadn’t dumped it with Ginny in the first place), they would’ve been fine. If Voldemort hadn’t let in a troll (and Sylvia hadn’t sent a dragon after Rose), they would’ve been fine. 

“Moving on,” Sally-Anne said. “While I’ve got your attention…” She tapped the side of her ear, giving Hermione a bad feeling. “What happened with Ron?” 

“That is the last thing I want to—” 

“Because I know you care about him. At least, you did. This is probably the first time I’ve talked to you in nearly a month, including Potions, during which you insist on working alone. If I weren’t the only one to get the _Daily Prophet_ , you’d probably still be ignoring me.” 

“What’s your point?” 

“Ron seems to think you hate him.” 

“I don’t hate him.” 

“Then what?” 

“I… I didn’t write to him all summer. What was I supposed to tell him?” 

“The truth.” 

Hermione rolled her eyes. 

“That’d go well. ‘Sorry, Ron, I was too busy thinking about other things.’” 

“Is that really what happened?” 

“Nothing makes sense about how Rose died. Something’s going on, and I’ve got to figure out what.” 

“This doesn’t all come down to you, Hermione. You certainly don’t have to do this alone. You could’ve asked Ron for his help.” 

“I… It was hard enough knowing that I’m never going to see Rose again. I couldn’t bring myself to write him.” 

“So you buried yourself in a problem to solve so you wouldn’t have to think about it.” 

Hermione hesitated. She hadn’t thought about it like that, just that she would’ve rather been spending time trying to figure out what had really happened. Phrasing it the way Sally-Anne did was… mean. 

“I… I didn’t mean to.” 

“Of course not, but you also didn’t fix it when you had the chance.” 

After some silence, Sally-Anne watched her expectantly. Hermione became aware that people were leaving the Great Hall. 

“If I’d tried to explain it, all he would’ve heard was that he wasn’t important. That I’d chosen something else over him.” 

Sally-Anne looked at Hermione with disappointment in her eyes. 

“We’ll never know how he would’ve taken it now.” 

With that, Sally-Anne stood up from the table. 

_What does she know?_

_I know Ron a lot better than she does._

_She’s right, though._

_I shouldn’t have shut him out._

_If only I could go back._

_No. Don’t dwell on it. What’s done is done._

_Still…_

_Brain!_

Hermione jumped in her seat and saw that she was one of a few people left in the Great Hall. The rest of her friends had left. 

_If you don’t hurry, you’ll be late for Professor Snape’s lesson._

_Right._

Hermione grabbed her pack and hurried out of the Great Hall, her conversation with Sally-Anne already moved to the back of her mind. 


	8. Perception Check

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Luna utilizes her Perception skill, and Harry resolves to try harder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter, and most of his strange dreams.

Harry walked along the seventh floor to the Arithmancy room. While he himself didn’t have Arithmancy for another two hours, he decided he’d meet up with Hermione before Transfiguration. It’d also be a great time to talk to her about their lessons with Snape. 

“At least we’re learning something,” he muttered. 

He sat down outside the Arithmancy classroom, then, after deciding he had nothing better to do, took out an essay for Snape. 

_I expect to see two distinct essays on my desk at the start of class._

“I don’t know what his problem with me is,” Harry muttered. 

His _blindsight_ tripped, and he looked up to see who was walking by the room. He couldn’t believe it when he saw it. 

“H-hey, Cho,” he managed with a suddenly dry mouth. 

“Hello, Harry,” she replied. “What are you doing here?” 

Harry put the essay in his pack. “Waiting for Hermione. You?” 

His heart rate picked up when Cho sat down next to him. 

“I’m waiting for Cedric. We always walk to our next classes together.” 

_She’s still with Cedric. Of course, she’s still with Cedric. Why wouldn’t she be? Why do I care?_

“Erm… what… what class do you have next?” 

“Defence.” 

Harry made a face, then blushed when Cho giggled. 

_That was stupid._

As stupid as he felt, a part of him was happy to hear her laugh. 

“Don’t like our new professor?” she asked. 

“She’s spreading all these lies about Rose, about me. It’s bad enough that we aren’t learning anything. At least Lockhart wasn’t trying to brainwash the entire school.” 

“She didn’t say anything like that with us,” Cho said. “But… Lovegood insists that the _Daily Prophet_ is making up stories. At least, I think that’s what she’s saying. It’s hard to tell with her.” 

Harry laughed in spite of himself. “I always left interpreting Luna up to Rose.” 

“She did seem good at it. I think Longbottom follows her, but Blake hardly keeps up with either of them.” 

“Who?” 

“Their other friend, Melody Blake, one of the third-years. She usually talks with them, but she’s been sitting on her own for a few days now.” 

“Right.” 

Harry tried, but he couldn’t put a face to “Blake”. He tended to tune Luna out, so she might’ve said something that he’d missed. He resolved to pay more attention. After all, noticing small details was supposed to be his specialty. 

Harry sensed more movement in front of him. He looked up, but didn’t immediately see anything. 

“They’re packing up,” he said. 

Cho opened her mouth, but closed it when the door opened. She smiled at him before standing and meeting Cedric at the door. 

“Hey, Harry,” Hermione said. “Need something from Professor Vector?” 

“No, I was looking for you,” Harry said. 

“Harry, want to say,” Cedric said, “that move you did last year was brilliant.” 

“Which one?” Harry asked, a broad grin on his face. 

“Which one do you think?” Cedric asked, laughing. “Jumping off your broom to get away from Cho and I. I doubt anyone saw that one coming.” 

“Don’t worry, Gryffindor’s drilling that as part of our standard practices,” Harry said. “To keep everyone on their toes.” 

Cedric and Cho laughed, although Hermione brought a hand to her face. 

“Only Quidditch players would think nearly dying was a good thing.” 

_Says Rose’s best friend._

“We should get going,” Cedric said. “See you two later.” 

“It was nice talking to you, Harry,” Cho said. 

“Same!” Harry blurted. 

A familiar pain arose in his chest. He blushed as Cedric and Cho walked off. He stared down the corridor, some small part of him hoping Cho would come back. 

“I thought you were over her,” Hermione said. 

Harry jumped, then realized he’d forgotten Hermione was with him. 

“What?” he asked. 

“She’s still with Cedric,” Hermione said, beginning the walk to Transfiguration. “And you said last year you were over her.” 

Harry paused and thought about it. He had been over her. Now, he was stuttering when he talked to her, couldn’t think of anything to say, and his face was hot. He felt as if he were back in third year, trying desperately to talk to her. 

_I was never this awkward around Ellie._

His entire body seemed to sink closer to the ground when his thoughts turned to Ellie. 

“Hold on,” Harry said, “I never said anything about her. How did you know I used to like her?” 

“Sally-Anne told me, when she kept glaring at her when she thought no one was looking. I knew she liked you, so it wasn’t hard to work out.” 

Harry rolled his eyes and sighed. 

“Don’t worry,” Hermione said. “I won’t tell anyone, but remember: Cedric’s my friend, and if I think you’re trying to ruin his relationship with Cho, I’ll stop you.” 

Harry nodded, beginning their trip in silence. Harry began to space out and his mind drifted right back to where it’d been a minute ago; where it’d been for much of the summer. The same set of questions returned to his thoughts. What was Ellie’s involvement in luring him out of the castle? Had that been her? If not, who was it? Hadn’t Rose said something about her in the graveyard? He’d been sure he’d sensed two people with him before he’d passed out. 

“I assume you stopped by for a reason,” Hermione said. “Or were you just trying to catch Cho?” 

“There’s a reason.” Harry thought for a moment about Snape and their lessons. “And I didn’t know Cho would be there!” 

Hermione laughed at him. “Well, you know now.” 

Harry fumed for a moment. Had Hermione always been so annoying, or had he just not noticed that either? 

“Do you know why Professor Snape hates me so much?” Harry asked. 

“Why would I?” Hermione asked. 

“Well, Rose knew something, and she told you everything.” 

Hermione shook her head. “She made a point to never tell me anyone else’s secrets. From what I could tell, something horrible happened to him.” 

“Right! Sirius said he’d done something to make Snape hate him!” 

“There you go. _Professor_ Snape is probably taking it out on you.” 

Harry groaned, irritated by his answer, more so by the fact that he couldn’t do anything about it. 

* * *

Luna crept out of bed that night. She got dressed, then quietly went down to the common room. After peering inside to find it empty, she crept over to the portal and left Ravenclaw Tower. 

She was on a mission to investigate Umbridge. She’d taken notes in class, but it wasn’t enough to prove Umbridge was a vampire. She’d need to check Umbridge’s reflection or find a potion that vampires used to pass as human hidden in Umbridge’s office. Luna had already done the research on such a potion, so she knew what to look for. All she had to do was find it, and she’d have the evidence she needed to blow the whole case wide open. 

_Daddy and Toad will be so proud of me._

With Tutela as a lookout, she made her way to Umbridge’s office. She was blind in the dark corridor, but Tutela guided her through it. Her heart beat loudly in her ears. She could hardly contain her excitement. 

“I think you–” 

“When have I ever asked for your opinion?!” 

Luna heard voices up ahead, then spotted two lights walking towards a corner. She looked around, trying hard not to panic. Panic was bad; it made the dreams worse. By the light of the approaching prefects, she caught the outline of a suit of armor, and an idea struck her. She ran over to it and stood up straight beside it. 

Tutela hid behind the armor and listened for the pair of prefects. 

“You ask Perks for her opinion!” 

“No, I don’t! I don’t care what she thinks either!” 

Luna held still and listened. Why were they talking about Princess? She watched as Malfoy and Parkinson walked into view. They kept shouting at one another, walking right past her. 

“Sure. You just have rounds with her!” 

“That’s not my fault. I didn’t ask for them.” 

“Get Snape to change your rounds.” 

Luna’s heart stopped when the pair stopped walking not two feet from her. Malfoy stopped just ahead of Parkinson, turning to face her. 

“You can’t order me around!” he snapped. “You’re nothing without me!” 

“You think I’m so stupid, don’t you?” she shot back. “I always get what I want. If you don’t want to change your rounds, then maybe people will all wonder why you like spending time with a mudblood so much.” 

A strong scent of anger filled Luna’s nose as Malfoy raised his hand to strike Parkinson. 

“You–” he spat, but didn’t hit or swear at her. He glared at her for a moment before lowering his hand. 

“You’re not as stupid as you look,” Parkinson said. A cruel smile crept over her face. “Don’t worry. I’m sure your rounds will be changed one way or another.” 

Malfoy stormed off with Parkinson right behind him. Luna held still until she was sure they were gone, then began making notes in her investigator’s notebook. 

_The chief vampire recruiter at Hogwarts is encountering problems,_ she wrote. _Further investigation required. Check with Princess. She might know._

Luna and Tutela crept through the castle. They didn’t encounter any further opposition on the way to Umbridge’s office. Luna knew they were getting close when she caught the scent of flowers. Not beautiful, natural flowers that Toad had told her about in the Forbidden Forest that she certainly had never snuck out to look at. Flowers that had been ripped from their homes and stuck inside a vase to be put on display. She was sure Toad would be as annoyed as she was if he could smell it. He liked plants a lot more than she did. 

<Moon, focus.>

Luna shifted her focus from the sickening scent coming from the office to the door blocking it. After a few attempts to unlock it with her wand, she gave up the tactic. 

<It’s not working,> Luna told Tutela. <Stand guard. I’ve got an idea.>

Luna took the piece of chalk from behind her ear. She crouched down to put the doorknob on eye-level, then drew runes on the knob. After she charged them, the doorknob vanished. 

<Done.>

Luna and Tutela slipped inside the office. Fortunately for her, the cats in the pictures were all sleeping soundly. She turned to Tutela and held her finger to her lips. 

<Do you know what it looks like?>

<Sort of. Well enough that I’ll know when I find it.>

Luna sniffed the air, but could only catch the scent of the flower corpses littering the rooms. 

<Check everywhere. Tell me if you find something suspicious.>

As her dad had shown her, Luna carefully went through everything, taking note of where something was before moving it. She looked through every drawer and cabinet at least once, but found little of interest in any of them. 

<I found something,> she told Tutela. <I think it’s veritaserum.>

<Interesting, but not what we’re looking for.>

<I wish I could cast _spontaneous search_. >

Luna held still for six seconds, but nothing happened. 

<Moon, you don’t have _Serendipity_. >

<No, but I can pretend.>

<We’ve searched everywhere. There’s nothing here. If she’s got the potion, she’s not keeping it in here.>

Luna nodded her agreement. She sniffed the air again, but still only got the scent of dead, preserved flowers. 

<I hate that smell.>

<I’ll check out the door for anyone coming.>

Tutela poked her head out the door, then wagged her tail. Luna slipped out the door, shutting it gently behind her. She and Tutela crept down the corridor. Despite not knowing how long she’d been gone, Luna was certain no one in Ravenclaw Tower had noticed her absence. Rose had been right; it was easier when no one took you seriously. Luna could come and go as she pleased, and no one noticed. Except Toad. He always noticed her. 

On the fifth floor, she caught traces of a familiar scent. A near overpowering smell of cologne mixed with an equally strong smell of perfume. Malfoy and Parkinson. 

Along with the smell, the pair brought with them the sound of shouting. 

“What goes on in my family is none of your business!” 

“It will be one day! You might as well tell me now.” 

Luna looked around for somewhere to hide. In the absence of another group of statues, she bolted down the corridor. 

<You should hide in my pack, so there’s only one of us.>

Tutela looked up at her, then leapt into her pack. 

Luna smiled knowing her homunculus was safe, then sniffed the air. 

She froze when she caught another familiar scent. This one matched the scent of the office she’d left not ten minutes ago. She glared at the memory of the voice that accompanied it. 

_Rose Peta-Lorrum took her own life. Sad, but not unheard-of._

Her head whipped around as she looked for somewhere to hide. There was nothing. She was alone in an empty corridor. Two Slytherin prefects closing in behind her, and a vampire ahead of her. 

She looked between the two ends of the corridor, wondering which one would be worse. Brain had told her that Butterhead liked to pick fights, and she was no good in a fight. Not without Rose, Toad, or Brain to help her. Umbridge was a vampire, but she couldn’t just make students disappear, so it wouldn’t be so bad. Unless she turned her. What would being a vampire be like? Luna liked to go out in the sun, so she didn’t really want to be a vampire. 

As she made up her mind, Umbridge rounded the corner first. 

“Ms. Lovegood, I believe. I’m glad I ran into you, because I heard the strangest story from one of your classmates earlier today about your outlandish theories about the Minister of Magic.” 

On the outside, Luna showed nothing but an innocent smile. On the inside… 

_Crab apples!_

* * *

The setting sun lit up the sky orange. Harry drifted aimlessly, the wind rushing past his face. He saw Hogwarts pass by below him. Soaring over the castle, he turned and smiled to his companion. 

Riding alongside him, Cho turned and smiled back at him. A beautiful sunset, with a beautiful girl by his side. Harry wanted for nothing else. Everything was perfect. 

They passed by over mountains, fields, and forests. The sun slowly sank under the horizon, and suddenly, the world was covered in shadow. 

Harry looked to Cho, expecting to still see her smiling face, but someone else had taken her place. 

Ellie lunged at him, her arms extending to ten feet long. He tried to steer his broom away, but it’d vanished. Ellie wrapped her arms around him, dragging him closer to the ground. 

Struggling against her grip, Harry felt his forehead begin to burn. He looked ahead and saw their final destination. 

A graveyard loomed in the distance. Shadows stirred around the graves, all bowing to their master. Their master that rose up from a large tombstone, covered in dark gray robes. A pale, snake-like face turned to face him, glaring at him with beady red eyes. 

Harry struggled against Ellie’s grasp, trying to find his wand, but he was trapped. His wand was nowhere to be found. He tried to call for help, but no sound came out. He was as mute as Ellie. 

They crashed into the graveyard, but Ellie retained her grip on him. She held him down before Voldemort, who’d grown to tower over them. 

“Excellent work, my faithful servant.” 

Harry stared in horror at Ellie. She smiled back at him, her face suddenly just as sweet as he remembered it. 

“ _It’s okay,_ ” she mouthed. “ _It will all be over soon._ ” 

“Ellie!” he finally managed to shout. 

Any attempt to escape was rendered futile by Ellie. His forehead felt as if a hot iron were being pressed against it. His arms were sore from Ellie’s grip. Powerless to stop him, he watched Voldemort grow bigger, drawing an enormous wand. 

“Goodbye, Harry Potter.” 

As Voldemort raised his wand, Ellie’s hands snaked around and held his cheeks. She pressed her lips to his, just as a green flash lit up the graveyard. 

“Harry!” 

Harry opened his eyes. The dull throbbing in his forehead began to subside. He grabbed his glasses then looked around the room, struggling to see in the dark. 

_Come on, Scarface. You shouldn’t be looking at all._

_Stop calling me that!_ he thought as he checked his _blindsight_. 

“Harry, are you alright?” Neville asked. 

“Fine,” Harry replied, rubbing his forehead. When he brought his hand away, he realized it was covered in sweat. 

“Seemed like you were having a bad dream.” 

“It’s nothing. I’m fine.” 

Sunday meant little to do to keep his mind off his dream. Little to do until it was time to meet with Hermione and Snape, at least. 

Harry had always thought he’d just been bad at potions, but with Snape teaching defence, he was starting to realize it was just Snape. Sure, Hermione was fine, but she was always going to be fine. He’d forgotten just how easily she absorbed information. 

On his way down into the Dungeons, Harry picked up movement all around him. People moving about, heading out to enjoy the day, or staying in to cram homework or studying for Monday. If there was one thing he enjoyed about needing less sleep, it was having more time to deal with the work they were given. He wasn’t like Ron or Hermione; he didn’t enjoy doing it. Nor was he like Sally-Anne or Neville, who did the work they hated because they knew it had to be done. 

“Harry!” 

Sensing the movement behind him, he turned and smiled at Cho. She trotted over to him, then fell in step alongside him. 

“What are you doing down here?” he asked. 

“I had a question for Professor Snape. You?” 

“Oh, I’m just… he’s been tutoring me and Hermione on defence.” 

Harry caught the slightest twitch on Cho’s face and immediately recognized anger when he saw it. 

_At least I’m not the only one that thinks Umbridge is bad at teaching._

“I doubt he’d mind teaching one more!” Harry blurted. 

A smile crept over Cho’s face, but not her normal smile. This one looked… mean. 

“I’d love to.” 

* * *

As it turned out, Snape did mind teaching one more. 

“I hope you’re pleased with yourself,” Hermione said after they’d left the dungeons an hour later. “You were lucky he let us stay, never mind letting us come back.” 

Harry was disappointed when they didn’t find Cho waiting for them. It would’ve been nice; some small consolation to his humiliation. He took comfort knowing that he’d see her later. At least, he hoped he would. 

“He could’ve kicked us out! Then what? All so you could spend more time with another boy’s girlfriend?! What’s wrong with you?!” 

“Me? What about you?” 

“What _about_ me? Cedric and I are friends. I talk to him or Professor Vector about what’s going on. He’s just a good listener, that’s all!” 

“Is it? You always smile when he’s around, you laugh at everything he says, you–” 

“No, and no!” Hermione shot back. “I _know_ how I feel about him, unlike you and Cho. Cedric’s one of my best friends, one of a handful that doesn’t think Rose killed herself, and I’m not going to stand by and watch you try to steal his girlfriend!” 

Harry clenched his fists and rounded on Hermione. He’d had enough of people trying to live his life for him, and now Hermione was trying to tell him how he felt. He was done. 

“If you hate me being there so much, maybe I should just quit!” 

“Maybe you should!” 

Harry felt a hand on his shoulder, and realized he’d been stupid enough _again_ to ignore his _blindsight_. After cursing at himself, he looked into the familiar face of Alavel. 

“I apologize for intruding, but I couldn’t help but overhear your predicament.” 

“There’s no problem,” Hermione spat. She shrugged off the hand on her own shoulder. “Harry’s just giving up.” 

Harry clenched his fists again and tried to take a step towards Hermione, but Alavel held him in place. 

“Let’s all calm down,” Alavel said. “Both of you, please take a step away from the other.” 

The tension in Harry’s body eased up, and he stepped back. Hermione made no such effort. 

“Ms. Granger,” Alavel said. “Now.” 

Hermione glared defiantly at him, but complied nonetheless. 

“If I may make a suggestion,” Alavel said, “I believe I have the solution to your current predicament.” 

Harry broke his glare on Hermione and waited for Alavel to speak. When it appeared that Alavel had Hermione’s attention, he continued. 

“Mr. Potter, you are a marvelous teacher. If Ms. Chang wishes to learn, why not teach her yourself?” 

The thought of he and Cho, one on one, made its way to the foreground of his mind. Just the two of them, alone, once or twice a week. 

“Hold on, how’d you know this was about her?” Hermione asked. 

“Because I spoke with her a moment ago,” Alavel said. “She seemed rather upset, and as a member of staff, it is my duty to ensure the well-being of all students. And speaking of the other students, there are plenty of them that would benefit from such lessons. Why not gather them all and start a club?” 

Harry’s dream shattered, replaced by Hermione’s sneer. 

“I doubt he’ll like that.” 

Hermione looked at Alavel. Harry couldn’t see his face, but he could see Hermione’s sneer fade from hers. 

“Nastiness is most unbecoming of you, Ms. Granger. No matter the circumstances, there is never a need for it, and My Lady Rose would be most disappointed to see you like that.” He turned his attention back to Harry. “And Mr. Potter, I will remind you that Mr. Diggory has spoken for Ms. Chang. Do not try to sabotage their relationship. I needn’t remind you how it felt to be on the receiving end of that.” 

Harry’s mind wandered back to watching Ellie walk away, taking his dreams with her. He imagined the same thing happening to Cedric. It didn’t matter if Cho was walking to him; he couldn’t do that to another person. 

“Of course,” Harry said. “I didn’t mean to–” 

“We needn’t say anything more on the subject,” Alavel said. “Mr. Diggory is a kind young man. I’m sure he harbored no ill feelings towards you.” Alavel nodded to them. “I must be off. Please, give my words some consideration.” 

Harry nodded at Alavel as the Nimblewright walked off and left them alone. Harry turned back to Hermione, who was noticeably nicer. 

“I’m sorry, Harry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to get worked up like that.” 

“It’s fine,” he said. “I… I guess I deserved it.” 

“You didn’t mean to. Not everyone can think of other people all the time.” 

“What about Princess?” 

“Princess is a quirk of nature further engineered by Rose,” Hermione replied. “She doesn’t count.” 

Harry laughed. 

“What does that make you?” 

“A lost cause,” Hermione replied, laughing just as hard as Harry. “Rose was like a black hole; you couldn’t help but be drawn in, and then she warped you the closer you got. It’s much too late for me.” 

They laughed together for some time, and started walking back towards Gryffindor Tower. Part of him was disappointed that he wouldn’t be spending more time with Cho, but the more he thought about it, the more Harry realized that Alavel was right. He shouldn’t worry about someone who was with someone else. 

“Alavel was right,” Hermione said. 

“Yeah, he was,” Harry said absently. 

“We should be trying to teach other people,” Hermione said. “We’re learning a lot, and Princess says you’re an amazing teacher.” 

Harry snapped out of his musings. 

“That’s just flying,” Harry said. “I’ve had loads of practice with that, but I’ve never dueled someone, not really. I mean, there were a few times in the Dueling Club a few years back, then all the stuff Rose taught us, but that’s not much.” 

“It’s better than most people have got,” Hermione replied. “We should do something. It’s what Rose would’ve done.” 

After Alavel, that was all the convincing Harry needed. 


	9. Don't Die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our heroes do their best not to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** Rule One: Don't Die. Rule Two: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter. Rule Three: Ignore the fact that Rule Two makes no sense in context.

Neville opened the door into the kitchens. He was immediately greeted by a wall of noise, generated by hundreds of house-elves running about. 

“Wow,” he breathed. 

Neville watched the commotion, mesmerized by the coordinated work all around him. After a moment, he snapped back to reality and remembered why he was there. 

He looked around for Luna, spotting her next to one of the stoves. 

Her hair was up in a disorganized bun, her sleeves were rolled up, and she was busy stirring a pot under the watchful eye of one of the house-elves. 

“How’s that?” she asked, offering a spoon of what she was making to the elf. She carefully held her hand under the spoon as the elf tested it. 

“Splendid, Miss Luna,” the elf said. 

“Luna?” 

Luna turned to Neville and smiled at him. 

“Salutations, Toad.” Luna turned back to the house-elf watching her cook. “Barda, would you please keep an eye on it for me?” 

“Barda would be happy to be helping Miss Luna,” the elf replied. “Shall Barda be bringing it in for Miss Luna when it is being ready?” 

“Yes, please.” Luna stepped off her stool and let Barda take over cooking. 

“Why are we meeting here?” Neville asked. 

He stepped out of the way of a house-elf as it rushed by with a stack of plates. 

“It’s out of the way,” Luna replied. “Only Professor Dumbledore comes down here.” She motioned for him to follow her. “Also, I wanted to practice cooking, and Barda always helps me.” 

“What were you making?” 

“Marinara sauce,” she replied. “I thought spaghetti sounded good, so I came down here and asked Barda if she’d let me cook some.” 

“Can’t they just do it?” 

“So can I.” 

She led him through the kitchens into a large room with five large, wooden tables. House-elves were already placing food on them, Neville assumed in preparation for dinner. Luna walked around the house-elves to sit at the table on one end of the room, which sat on an elevated platform. 

“They’re laid out the same as the Great Hall,” Neville said. 

“Yup,” Luna replied as she took Professor Dumbledore’s seat at the head table. “Dripty showed me last year.” 

“Why?” 

“I asked.” 

Neville nodded, then sat down in Professor McGonagall’s seat next to Luna. 

“Now that we’re alone, how’d last night go?” Neville asked. 

“I’ve got detention with Umbridge starting tomorrow,” Luna replied. “I think I’m getting close to something. Tutela and I think we were close with her office, but we didn’t have enough time to search it completely. Not for hidden doors or anything. I think I want to figure out a way to use _prying eyes_ or _spontaneous search_ next time.” 

“Won’t she guard her office better?” 

Luna shook her head. “I doubt it. She didn’t catch us inside, and we were careful when looking around. All we found was something that looked like veritaserum.” 

“Why would she keep that in her office?” 

Luna shrugged. “I don’t know, but I thought it was worth noting.” She frowned for a moment, then added, “Also, someone told her about the investigation.” 

“What? Who?” 

“I don’t know yet. She told me last night that someone told her, but that was all.” 

Neville nodded. He turned his gaze to the rest of the room when Luna didn’t say anything else. 

“Where’d you learn to cook?” Neville asked. 

“At home.” 

Neville nodded to show he was paying attention, but he knew that he’d get nothing else from Luna. It was just her; she didn’t offer much information about herself. They’d been friends for years, and he didn’t know much about her. He knew plenty about the _Quibbler_ , her dad’s theories, and various animals that might’ve been made up, but not much about her. 

“Some days, Daddy didn’t feel up to cooking,” Luna said. “Especially… especially right after Mummy died. So I learned to cook so he didn’t always have to.” Luna frowned. “He’s been like that a lot lately. I think he misses Rose.” 

At the mention of Rose, Neville wanted to curl up and hide. It still hurt knowing he’d never see Rose again. Her laugh, her stupid grin that was too optimistic for anyone… he’d never see any of it again. Rose was gone. 

The sound of soft sobbing knocked him out of his stupor, and he turned to Luna. Sure enough, she was the source of the sobs. 

Forgetting about himself for a moment, he put his arm around Luna. She rested her head on his shoulder, startling him. 

“It’s alright,” he whispered. “Just… just keep crying until you feel better.” 

They sat in relative silence, the only sounds coming from either the house-elves or Luna. Neville slowly reached up his hand and stroked Luna’s hair, just as Rose had done for him a year ago. 

“Rose did this for me last year,” Neville whispered. “I… I was scared I was going to die, but she helped me through it. I’d be dead if it hadn’t been for her.” 

“I miss her,” Luna sobbed quietly. “I miss my big sister.” 

Neville nodded, fighting the urge to cry himself. 

“I… I miss her, too.” 

The clatter of porcelain on wood startled them both. When they looked to the table, they saw a piece of chocolate cake had been placed in front of each of them. Behind the cake, Dripty winked at them. 

“There is being some leftovers,” he whispered. “No one will be minding if Ms. Luna and Mr. Neville are eating some.” 

Neville wiped a tear from his eye. “Are you sure?” 

Dripty nodded, then ran off to help with the preparations for dinner. 

Neville turned back to Luna and saw that her sad, crooked smile had returned to her face. 

“Feeling better?” Neville asked. 

Luna directed her smile at him, and for the first time in three months, he didn’t miss Rose so much. It felt good having someone to talk to about Rose. Someone that missed Rose just as much as he did. 

“I am now.” 

* * *

The next morning, Neville went straight for the Ravenclaw table. He didn’t know what Umbridge was doing, but Hermione’s vague answer of “she made me write lines” didn’t sit well with him. Listening to his instincts was one of many skills he’d learned over the past year. 

“How’d detention go last night?” Neville asked. 

“She tried to frighten me, but that just means we’re getting closer,” Luna said. 

Neville smiled at Luna’s optimism. He never understood how she could always be so positive after everything she’d been through. Taking a scone from the plates in front of him, he happened to glance at her hand. 

“What happened to your hand?” he asked. 

“Oh.” Luna smiled, nearly laughing at her own absentmindedness. “Of course. The quill Umbridge had me use gets its ink by etching the words into the writer’s hand.” 

Neville stopped midway through putting his scone in his mouth. He stared at her, slowly returning the food to his plate. 

“It what?” he asked. 

“When you write with it, the words are cut into your hand,” Luna said as if it were the simplest thing in the world. She took a bite of scone before continuing. “Makes sense for a vampire to use something like that.” 

Many thoughts entered Neville’s head at once. He thought about Luna, crying as she was forced to torture herself. He thought of Rose returning the favor to Umbridge with _Crimson Thorn_ , and, for a split second, wondered if he could do the same. Through this, another idea occurred to him: Hermione had had detention with Umbridge, and now she wore gloves. 

“Well, now we know why Hermione started wearing gloves,” Neville muttered. He leaned over the table. “Next time, leave the sneaking around to me. I’ve got loads of practice.” 

Luna looked down and nodded. 

“I just wanted to help,” she said. 

“It’s fine,” Neville said, hoping to cheer her up. “You found veritaserum in her office. That’s got to be worth something.” 

A weaker smile returned to her face, but he could tell something was still wrong. 

_Umbridge is going to pay for this._

After breakfast, Neville caught Hermione on her way to class. 

“I know why you’re wearing those gloves,” he said as they walked. 

“Just my way of paying tribute to Rose,” Hermione said. 

“So Umbridge making you write lines with your own blood is just a coincidence?” 

Hermione stopped talking. A few moments later, she grabbed him and pulled him inside an empty classroom. 

“Who told you?” 

“Luna, after Umbridge made her do the same thing.” 

Hermione and Neville glared at one another, each one silently figuring out what to do next. At least, that was what Neville was doing; he assumed Hermione was doing the same. 

“We should tell someone,” Neville said at last. 

Hermione shook her head. 

“The other professors can’t do anything. Professors Vector and McGonagall already tried.” 

“Then we’ve got to do something,” Neville said. “It’s Rose’s little sister. Umbridge can’t get away with it.” 

“Last time I took matters into my own hands was at the World Cup,” Hermione said. “Not a great idea.” 

Neville scowled, then an idea struck him. 

“Luna and I were digging up dirt on Umbridge. Luna thinks Fudge is a vampire, so–” 

“What? Why?” 

Neville gave her a quick explanation, aware that they both needed to get to class. When he finished, they both started back off to class. 

“That is odd,” Hermione said, their conversation masked by _doublespeak_. “Keep digging and let me know if you find something. Harry and I are going to start a club to help other people learn defence.” 

“That’d help Luna a lot,” Neville said. “She’s not that good at it.” 

“Actually, I was thinking we could use your help. You’ve got more experience than anyone.” 

“Thanks, but putting people through what Rose put me might be a bit much.” 

“Not like that, just helping people use the skills we teach them.” 

Neville gave it a moment’s thought, but quickly realized he had to decline. 

“Right now, I’d rather keep an eye on Luna. She’s having a hard time without Rose, and Rose would want someone looking out for her.” 

Hermione nodded. 

“Why don’t you help me, then I’ll help the others? That way, we’ll have two experienced fighters on our side, and we can both look out for Luna.” Hermione grinned. “Rose was my best friend too.” 

That made sense. Two people looking out for Luna were better than one. Thinking about it, Neville knew Hermione wasn’t ready to protect Luna yet. Only he was ready for it. People like Umbridge were still lurking in the shadows, and Neville couldn’t get the image of Luna crying out of his head. 

“You’ve got a deal,” Neville said. 

“ _Kethé_ ,” Hermione said, bringing a smile to Neville’s lips. “Come on. If we don’t hurry, we’re going to be late for class.” 

* * *

That night, minutes after Ron and Sally-Anne left for their rounds, Harry, Hermione, Ginny, and Neville gathered in the common room. They filled each other in about what they knew about Umbridge, and about their plans for a club. 

“I still can’t believe she’s allowed to get away with that,” Ginny said. “If I started telling lies about her, Mum would have my head.” 

“We can’t just go in and fight her,” Harry said. “As much as we’d all love to, Alavel thinks we should at least start by helping other students learn what Umbridge won’t teach them.” 

“I think we’re all aware how dangerous the world is out there,” Neville added. 

“The Ministry wants us to keep believing we’re at peace, but it’s not peaceful all the time,” Hermione said. “Pretending for a moment that Voldemort hasn’t returned, there was an attack on the World Cup last year. The Ministry’s mad if it thinks nothing’s wrong with this country. People need to know how to defend themselves, and all the theory in the plane is worthless if you can’t apply it properly.” 

“So you’re going to teach us?” Ginny asked. 

“Harry is. He’s better at teaching than I am. I can soak up information, but I can’t explain it well. Neville, you’re probably going to be a punching bag for most of it.” 

“I learned how to take hits last year, I think I’ll manage. What about Ron and Sally-Anne?” 

“What about them?” Harry asked. “Obviously, they’ll—” 

“Absolutely not,” Hermione said. 

Her companions turned to her in shock. 

“What?” Harry asked. “We can’t—” 

“It’s not about including them or not, it’s about what’s at stake. There’s no way Umbridge will approve of this, even if it is within the rules. She can change the rules however she wants, and no one can stop her. If she finds out what we’re doing, she’ll make it against the rules, and it won’t matter what we say. As the ringleaders, we’ll take the most heat for it.” 

“‘We could all be killed’,” Harry said in a high-pitched voice, “‘or worse, expelled’.” 

“Shut up,” Hermione snapped as Ginny snickered. “We’ll be lucky if all she does is expel us. She held me for a few hours each night, never mind what she’s doing to Luna.” 

At the mention of Luna, Neville’s face grew noticeably darker. Hermione knew how he felt; it infuriated her to no end that Umbridge was allowed to torture students like that. 

“She can hold us for as long as she wants, using whatever punishment she feels like using. Sally-Anne and Ron are prefects, and both of them are proud of that. If they’re involved in this, they might as well kiss that goodbye right now.” 

Hermione sat in silence while she allowed her friends to take in what she’d said. She hated leaving them out; both Ron and Sally-Anne were good with people, and could be great teachers and leaders. But it wasn’t their fight. 

“So we’re just supposed to split the party?” Neville asked. “Keep them in the dark?” 

“It’s for their own good. Rose has done the same for us loads of times.” 

She knew bringing up Rose would silence Neville and Ginny. When she turned her attention to Harry, she found no argument from him either. 

“If you think that’s best,” he said, meeting her gaze for a moment. 

“What do we call it?” Neville asked. 

“We could call it ‘Dumbledore’s Army’,” Ginny said, laughing, “just to mess with the Ministry.” 

“That’s just asking for trouble,” Hermione said, shaking her head. “Besides, this isn’t an army, it’s a resistance.” 

They offered a few more suggestions, while Hermione started thinking of better ones. What would Rose have called it? 

_Brain, I need a fancy word for protector!_

_I just asked Sk’lar for a big word for messenger._

“What about Insurrection?” Hermione offered. 

“The Crimson Insurrection,” Neville added. 

“That!” Ginny exclaimed, pointing excitedly at Neville. “Let’s do that!” She turned to Harry and Hermione. “Please!” 

Hermione rolled her eyes. Harry started laughing. Ginny glared at him. 

“What?! You got a problem, Skyeyes?” 

“No, I was just thinking about how you used to squeal and run away from me,” he said. “You’d never know it now.” 

Ginny flashed a grin that almost reminded Hermione of Rose. 

“I’m alright with calling it the Crimson Insurrection,” Hermione said. “Harry, you?” 

“CI for short,” he said. 

“ _Kethé_. I know a few charms I can use to ensure no one talks about it or mentions it to anyone. They’ll all need to know for what they’re signing up.” 

* * *

“You already know the first rule of survival,” Neville said. “Rose told it to all of us.” 

“Stay alive,” Hermione replied. “Sure.” 

“That could mean a lot of things,” Neville said. “Being faster, stronger, or just better than your opponents. Remember, the real world is hardly fair.” 

“World Cup.” Hermione sighed. “Look, I’ve already got all the information in my head. Pure theory, despite what Umbridge thinks, isn’t enough in the real world.” 

“You’re right, it’s not,” Neville said. “So let’s start practicing.” 

With no further warning, he flung the sword at her. She didn’t even remember seeing him draw it, giving her only a second to prepare herself for his attack. 

Hermione raised her hand. 

_THWAP!_

Hermione recoiled as the butt of the sword slammed into her hand. She nursed a swollen hand concealed by her glove. 

It wasn’t like Professor Snape throwing a curse at Harry. She didn’t know much defensive magic, only how to counter magic. Against Neville, she couldn’t do much. 

“It’s different fighting an opponent that doesn’t use magic, isn’t it?” Neville asked as the sword returned to his hand. “Trust me, the Forbidden Forest is full of them.” 

“So I’ve heard,” Hermione said, rubbing her hand. “Thanks for not taking my arm off.” 

“You’re welcome.” He held the sword up again, then hurled it at Hermione. 

This time, Hermione focused on her next move. Her mind ran a marathon to find a spell for defence, then stopped on the Shield Charm. Not as reliable as the Shield Rune, but good enough to block a flying sword. Then came the easy part: working out how to cast it wandlessly. She derived the Arithmantic equation for the spell, accounting for her body. 

Hermione raised her hand and began to work through the incantation and hand movements. 

_THWAP!_

Hermione recoiled again as the sword butt struck her hand. 

“How’d you do that?” Hermione asked, nursing another bruise on her hand. “How do you know where I’m going to be?” 

“I don’t, but I know it won’t be far from where I aim,” Neville replied. “You can think as fast as you like, but I often know what I’m going to do before my body’s finished working through it. I figure it’s got to be that times a thousand for you, but I also know you ran in at the World Cup thinking you knew what you were doing. That means you’re arrogant, but you don’t realize you can’t act as fast as you think. So you’ll work out a spell mid-combat to show off, and forget that you can’t cast it in time.” 

Hermione let her mouth hang open. 

“What?” 

“Your body can’t–” 

“I know that bit!” Hermione snapped. “How’d you work all that out?” 

“Ever try to outrun a centaur?” 

“You can’t, they’ve got–” 

“Four legs, I noticed. I tried once, then realized it wasn’t possible. After a few near-death experiences with them, I started asking myself ‘What else don’t I know?’, and made a list. From then on, I made it a point to work out my opponent’s strengths and weaknesses as fast as I could.” 

Hermione continued to let her mouth hang open as it sunk in how much better Neville was than the rest of them. She’d known it before, but never quite on the magnitude she’d just seen. 

“Have you got the spell in your head now?” 

Hermione returned to reality and thought about the spell she’d tried. 

“Erm–” 

“Good!” 

_THWAP!_

The answer to Neville’s question was “No”. 

_He’s worse than Rose._

“Ever hear the phrase ‘Know your enemy’?” Neville asked. 

“Yeah,” Hermione said, still determined to show as little pain as possible. 

“Taltria taught me a better one: Know your own weaknesses, and be prepared for them to be used against you.” 

Hermione took a moment to think about it. _A_ moment, which was all the time it took for her to realize Neville wasn’t moving. She narrowed her eyes at him, sensing some sort of trap. 

“Nice try.” 

“Oh good, you’re learning.” 

“Great!” Hermione huffed. “Just as condescending as Rose.” 

“She taught me too,” Neville replied, faint traces of a smirk forming on his face. 

Neville’s smirk brought with it thoughts of Umbridge. Hermione’s narrowed eyes turned into a glare. 

“Stop that.” 

“Make me,” Neville shot back. “You’re rubbish at defence, so let’s see how you are on offence.” 

Hermione sorted through her mental catalog of spells. She needed one he’d never expect; something no one would expect. 

“You’re already too slow,” Neville said. “I’m prepared for anything you throw out.” 

_Oh, really?_

Hermione pointed at the ground. 

“ _Crosa!_ ” 

Neville’s sword was buried in the wall after the first syllable, and he was gone before the spell took effect. 

Hermione’s head darted to her right, just in time to put her hands up to defend herself against an incoming sword. 

“Come on!” she shouted. 

“Rose wouldn’t have gone easy on you either,” Neville said. “She stuck me inside the Forbidden Forest the day after I was chosen as a champion. The Centaurs held me hostage for hours without food or water. If you want to learn, stop whining about it and learn!” 

“Now you just sound like Professor Snape!” she shot back. 

“Good. I’d take him over a hack like Professor Vector any day.” 

Hermione’s vision went red, and she flung her hand out. She didn’t have a spell in mind, although she had a vague idea of what she wanted to do to Neville. 

The air around him shimmered with a familiar light, and he dove out of the blast zone a second before a single spark appeared inside. 

The blast Hermione created sent shockwaves through the Room of Requirement, knocking her off her feet. She braced herself for the impending impact against the back wall, but it never came. Instead, she landed against something distinctly Neville-shaped that grabbed her and put her down. 

“Don’t you–” she shouted, struggling against him. “If you ever say something like that again, I’ll–” 

“I didn’t mean it,” Neville said. “I just wanted you to stop taking it easy on me.” 

“Taking it easy on you?!” Hermione exclaimed, breaking free from Neville’s grasp. “Taking it easy on you?! Who said I was–” 

“That was the spell you made for the Basilisk,” Neville said. “Which means you could’ve thrown something that powerful at me anytime. So why didn’t you? Why’d you use the quicksand instead?” 

“I don’t know!” Hermione screamed. 

Hermione turned around and stormed over to the door. 

“If you’re afraid, then–” 

“I’m not afraid!” She spun around in place and stormed back over to Neville. 

“Really? It sure seems like it. Between the way you are in practice, to the way you are in class. You _never_ mess up a spell, but you’ve been doing it all the time. You _hesitate_. I know; I look for that in other people now. It’s the best way to find out where a person’s weakest, and it says volumes about them.” 

Hermione turned around again and stormed back to the door. She didn’t have a plan going forward, but she knew she’d think of one. She was easily clever enough to figure out a way to practice on her own. Taltria or Alavel could teach her, or Professor Dumbledore, or Professor Vector, or someone other than Neville. Anyone other than Neville would be fine. 

“If I noticed, how long is it going to take Umbridge to notice?” 

Hermione froze in place. 

“That’s what I meant about ‘be prepared for your weaknesses to be used against you’,” Neville said. “If you can’t admit you’re in trouble, you’ll never get out of it.” 

Hermione turned around again, feeling a little dizzy now that she had. 

“That sounds like Rose.” 

“Alavel, actually.” 

Hermione rolled her eyes. 

“I’m just trying to help you, like you asked. If you’d rather do this with someone else, that’s fine. I know we’re not that close, but I won’t try to hurt you with what I know. I promise, but if it’s still a problem and Umbridge finds out, then we’re all in trouble, because we need you, Brain.” 

Hermione thought of Rose, and how she’d been manipulated in their third year by Sylvia. How her fear could’ve been used against her. From what Hermione had gathered about Sylvia, she considered Rose a friend. If that’s what she’d do to Rose, Hermione could only imagine what Umbridge would do if she got the chance. If she realized what Hermione was going through, she’d turn it all against her. 

“I… I’m afraid that if I think too hard, I’ll lose control of my magic again,” Hermione said. “Or pass out, or hallucinate. I’m afraid.” 

Neville nodded. 

“You could always take up sword-fighting instead,” he offered, holding up the Sword of Gryffindor. 

Hermione punched him in the arm. 

“There, I hit you,” she said as he laughed. “Are we done for the day?” 

“We’re done whenever you want to be done,” Neville replied. “That’s what Rose told me, but I never gave up. Although, I promise not to put you in the Nightmare Scenario.” 

“The what?” 

Neville shook his head. “You really don’t want to know.” He took a few steps back and held his sword at the ready. “Ready to go again?” 

All it took was a moment’s thought of Rose for Hermione to nod her head. 


	10. Drawing Aggro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the PCs begin to draw aggro from one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** I heard that not only does J.K. Rowling own Quidditch and Harry Potter, but about 87% of the rumors in Hogwarts.

Hallowe’en rolled around, and Hermione seemed far more enthusiastic than she should’ve been. 

“It’s like we’re deciding what happens,” she said. “Holding the first meeting of the CI on Hallowe’en is perfect.” 

The meeting itself was supposed to be short, held in a classroom off the beaten path. According to Fred and George, few of the teachers went near that particular part of the castle. Harry studied their routes on the map for a week, and found he had to agree with them. With Tutela and Taltria patrolling the immediate area, and ready to alert Luna and Alavel of any potential threats, they felt they were ready. 

Harry still wasn’t sure about the name “Crimson Insurrection”. Sure, it sounded good, but they weren’t supposed to be starting a rebellion, just teaching students what they needed to know for the outside world. He knew Umbridge was full of it, but he couldn’t help but feel that Hermione wasn’t in it to help people. 

Even as they introduced the club to the forty or so students gathered in the classroom, he worried. Harry explained what they’d be learning; Hermione explained why. 

“You’ve got no idea what’s out there.” 

“And you do?” one of the students asked. 

“Who went to the World Cup last year?” Hermione asked. 

Several hands went up. 

“Who thinks it’s just a rumor that Death Eaters attacked?” 

A new set of hands went up. 

“It’s not a rumor, I tried to stop them. For all of Umbridge’s boasting about how theory is all we need, I know from personal experience that it isn’t. If theory had been all I’d needed then, I would’ve attended school last year with all of you. But it isn’t all we need. With Voldemort back and the Ministry against us—” 

Hermione rolled her eyes when people gasped at the name “Voldemort”. 

“Voldemort,” Neville said, who’d taken a place at the front of the class with Hermione and Harry. “Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort. Names don’t kill people; _dragons_ kill people.” 

“What you all need to understand is that there are very real threats in the world,” Alavel said. “It’s simple self-defence. We don’t expect you to know how to fight dark wizards; there are people specially trained for that, with years of experience that we can’t hope to teach you here. What we can teach you is to apply what you’ve learned in a real-world scenario. You won’t have time to think or look something up if attacked; you’ll have seconds to think of what to do and act on it.” 

Harry smiled at him. They didn’t have Sally-Anne’s people skills with them, but Alavel was just as good. He turned back to the crowd to speak, but Hermione beat him to it. 

“There’s one thing you should know,” she said. “Umbridge thinks Dumbledore’s making a move against the Ministry. That’s why she doesn’t teach us anything useful. She and Fudge think Dumbledore’s raising an army. Word of this club can’t leave the people involved. If Umbridge finds out about it, she’ll use it as proof that Dumbledore’s doing exactly what she says he’s been doing.” 

“You’re not breaking the rules,” Alavel added quickly. “No one here is doing anything wrong by any proper moral standards. We are all here to learn a useful skill. Anything learned here must only be used for self-defence. Nothing more. It won’t do any good to harm each other.” 

Harry gave everyone a moment to take in Alavel’s words, then got to his next question before Hermione could open her mouth. 

“Any questions?” 

Fred and George raised their hands. 

“Fred?” 

“Do we have to call you ‘Lord Skyeyes’, or is that just him?” 

A few giggles went through the crowd. 

“I wasn’t going to make anyone, but Fred, George, now just you two have to.” 

Harry’s smile broadened a little when he caught the faintest traces of a chuckle from Alavel. After that, Hermione had everyone sign a parchment with the title “Crimson Insurrection” at the top. Harry found it hard to smile knowing what the parchment did. As Hermione had explained it, it’d make it clear if anyone tried to “squeal on them”. 

As everyone left, Hermione handed each of them a fake galleon to tell them when the first meeting would be held. 

“You’ll see,” she said when any of them asked how. 

“This isn’t going to come to life and breathe fire, is it?” Cedric asked when she handed him one. 

“Wish I’d thought of that,” Hermione said. “That would’ve been _kethé_ , although sort of defeat the point of secrecy.” 

Harry watched on the map for any signs of trouble, adding to the guard of Tutela and Taltria. Luna, Neville, Ginny, and Hermione stayed with him until the last student left. 

“I wish Alavel wouldn’t baby them like that,” Hermione said. “He makes it seem like nothing’s going on.” 

“Nothing’s going on that we need to worry about,” Harry snapped. “He’s right; there are Aurors out there to deal with everything else. We just need to worry about what’s going on here, and help people learn practical skills. That’s it.” 

Hermione glared at him for a moment, then muttered “Fine”, and stormed off. 

“It’s almost dinner,” Ginny said. “I told Dean I’d sit with him today, and he gets annoyed if he thinks I forgot, so I’ll see you all later.” 

Harry watched her walk off, then turned his attention to Luna. 

“How’s your hand?” 

Luna tilted her head, allowing her long hair to fall to the side. 

“I saw the marks the day after you had detention with Umbridge,” Harry said. “So don’t bother trying to deny it.” 

He glanced at Neville, who kept his focus on Luna. Harry spotted a look he was sure was kindness in Neville’s eyes. 

“I’m alright,” Luna said, holding up her hand. “It’s not so bad anymore. It hurt a lot at first, but it’s almost all gone.” 

Harry nodded, and turned his attention towards Neville. 

“What about you?” 

“I haven’t had detention with her, and even if I had, I went through way worse last year.” 

Neville gave a half smile, which Harry returned. 

“I always felt bad for being happy it wasn’t me picked,” Harry said. “I’m sorry.” 

Neville shrugged. “I’m glad I was picked. Who knows who I’d be now if I hadn’t?” 

Harry smiled, then excused himself to find Alavel. He found the task to be easy, as Alavel had been waiting for him not far from their meeting place. 

“Mr. Potter, I was just looking for you. Care to walk with me to dinner?” 

Alavel motioned for Harry to walk with him. The pair began a slow stroll through the corridors. 

“I wanted to talk to you about Hermione,” Harry said. “I would’ve talked to Sally-Anne, but I realized that if I tried, it might trigger the curse Hermione put on that parchment we all signed.” 

“Yes, there’s nothing students enjoy more than feeling trusted,” he said dryly. 

Harry found himself thankful that no one knew the parchment had been cursed. He could only imagine his own reaction to finding out about it, were he one of the students. 

“That’s just it. Well, not just that, but… I’m starting to worry about Hermione. The way she acted was like she thought we were training soldiers, not teaching kids.” 

“Have you spoken to her about it?” 

“I tried, but she just brushed it off like it was nothing. I don’t think she realizes how she’s acting, and I’m afraid if I bring it up too much, she’ll work herself up and make it worse.” 

“It seems to me that you’ve got two options in front of you. The first is to confront Ms. Granger about it, voice your concerns, and risk setting her off again. The second is to ignore the problem until it gets out of hand, which will almost certainly set her off.” 

Harry nodded. With a Quidditch match coming up in a few days, he didn’t think he’d have time to talk to her about it before then, but he resolved to talk to her about it after. 

* * *

At dinner, Sally-Anne noticed that a lot of people in her house were talking amongst themselves about something they didn’t care to share with her. 

“Do you know what they’re discussing?” Sally-Anne asked Ron. 

“Huh?” he asked with a mouth half full of food. 

“Manners, Ronald.” 

He swallowed, then dabbed his face with his napkin. 

“So sorry,” he said in a faked upper class voice. “I don’t know whatever came over me.” 

Sally-Anne gave a small giggle at his antics. 

“Really, Ron, do you know?” 

“I… erm…” 

“Didn’t realize they were talking about something?” 

Ron turned defensive for a moment, but the fight quickly left him. 

“I mean I… I could’ve… no, I didn’t.” 

“It’s fine,” Sally-Anne said, giving him a slight smile. “It’s probably nothing to do with us.” 

Sally-Anne looked at Ron and saw that something else had his attention. Following his gaze, she saw his was fixated on Hermione, who seemed to be at the heart of the conversation, along with Harry. 

“Ron,” Sally-Anne whispered, “you’re staring at Hermione again.” 

“Am not!” he snapped, turning his attention back to her. 

“It’s fine. I know what you’re going through, and if you ever want to talk—” 

“I’m fine,” Ron said, although with less hostility. “I just need to focus on the Quidditch match on Saturday.” 

Sally-Anne smiled and hoped that Quidditch would help take Ron’s mind off Hermione. 

“I can’t wait,” she said. 

After that, Sally-Anne excused herself from the table and started off towards Gryffindor Tower. On her way, she heard someone call her. 

“Luna,” she said as the Ravenclaw rushed to catch up with her. “How’ve you been?” 

“Alright, I think,” she replied. “I had a question for you.” 

“I’ll do whatever I can to help.” 

“I was walking the corridors at night, and came across Butterhead and his queen.” 

Sally-Anne wasn’t sure which part of that sentence bothered her more: Luna being outside at night, her referring to Malfoy as “Butterhead”, or referring to Parkinson (probably) as “his queen”. 

“You mean Malfoy and Parkinson?” 

“I think so. They were arguing about something and mentioned you, so I was wondering if you knew.” 

Sally-Anne’s first instinct was to ask what it was. She’d settled in happily to the role of knowing everyone else’s business, although most information she received was freely offered. They were happy to talk to her, and she was happy to listen, although she got the occasional rumor from Lavender. 

“It’s none of our business,” Sally-Anne said. “While Malfoy and Parkinson shouldn’t be dealing with personal business during their rounds, it’s still not for us to get involved.” 

Luna smiled at her. “Okay.” 

Sally-Anne smiled back at her. 

_I can’t tell if she’s lying, and that worries me._

Sally-Anne parted ways with Luna, hoping that the girl wouldn’t start causing trouble. Not two minutes later, she ran into an excited Lavender. 

_That can only mean she’s got something for me._

“I just heard the best rumor!” Lavender squealed, as she always did when opening her conversations with Sally-Anne. 

“Well then, stopping wasting time and tell me!” Sally-Anne said with practiced enthusiasm. She knew exactly which muscles to tense, exactly where to look, and exactly how much to smile to get Lavender to keep talking. 

“I heard that Draco Malfoy is cheating on Pansy Parkinson,” Lavender said with more than her usual enthusiasm. She paused for a moment, but kept that glee in her eyes that told Sally-Anne she wasn’t finished. “…with a Muggle-born!” 

_That can’t possibly be good._

Sally-Anne reflexively ran through her list of Malfoy’s known associates. Apart from herself (and that was stretching the definition of the word “associate”), he didn’t so much as talk to anyone even half-blooded. 

“Did they say with whom?” Sally-Anne said, a little more seriously than she’d intended. Fortunately, she was talking with Lavender, not Harry or Viktor, which gave her some room for mistakes. 

“Who cares?” Lavender squealed, wearing one of the biggest grins Sally-Anne had seen on her. “Draco Malfoy with a Muggle-born! Cheating on Parkinson!” 

Sally-Anne saw two options: either pat Lavender on the head and tell her “good work”, as she usually did, or push back on her. 

“I think someone’s having you on,” Sally-Anne said, giving a more sympathetic smile. “You should check your source.” 

“No way! He’s just got to be good at hiding it!” 

“If he’s so good at hiding it, how’d people find out?” 

On her mother’s insistence, Sally-Anne had been working on developing was her ability to think critically, a skill sorely lacking in the Wizarding World. According to her mum, it’d help her sift through the bad information to find the truth. 

_I swear you’re a journalist or something, Mum._

Turning her attention back to Lavender, Sally-Anne found the girl turning pink. With a cry of exasperation, Lavender stormed off to find her source and tell them off. 

“At least now I’ve got something to talk to Malfoy about tonight,” Sally-Anne muttered to herself as she continued her journey towards Gryffindor Tower. 

* * *

Ron gripped his broom hard enough to make his hand sore. He stared at the sunlight pouring in through the doorway, accompanied by the overpowering sound of the roaring crowd. 

“Ready, Weasley?” Angelina asked. 

“Always,” Fred and George said. 

Angelina rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the door. 

Following her lead, they entered the pitch, one by one. Ron looked out at the crowd, and spotted his friends. Sally-Anne cheered and smiled, although her enthusiasm was nothing compared to Ginny’s. Even then, Sally-Anne was wild compared to Hermione, who had already buried her nose in a book. 

Ron did his best to focus on Sally-Anne’s enthusiasm, rather than Hermione’s lack of enthusiasm. Daydreams of Hermione cheering him on during a Quidditch match he’d had the last year drifted into his mind and stung him. 

“Tune them out,” Harry whispered. “Trust me, it helps.” 

Ron nodded and turned his attention back to the pitch. He stayed back towards the goals while his team marched forward to take their positions on the ground. Madame Hooch held the Quaffle in one hand, and gave them a typical “clean game” speech that he’d heard Fred and George imitate dozens of times. 

“Kick off!” 

They all rose into the air with the Quaffle, and Angelina shot forward to take it. Ron hovered near the goals, keeping a close eye on the Quaffle. He’d watched the chasers run drills in practice, but watching them weave around Slytherin was something else. 

Crabbe and Goyle floated near him, and he spotted Malfoy high above, keeping a close watch on the pitch. 

“Ten points for Gryffindor!” 

The moment the Quaffle flew through the goal, Slytherin took possession of it and started the race towards his side of the pitch. One chaser held the Quaffle, going straight for him. The moment he arrived, he hurled it in, but Ron was already on it. He grabbed the Quaffle and dropped it to a waiting Katie, who darted down the field. The Slytherin chaser took a moment to hiss at Ron before giving chase. 

_Have they always done that?_ Ron wondered. Hissing was a strange thing to do, even for Slytherin. _Must be some sort of mind game they’re playing._

The game went forward much the same way. Gryffindor scored, Slytherin took the Quaffle, Ron stopped them, they hissed at him. Over and over again, with little interference. He could see the frustration growing on the other player’s faces. 

_Must’ve thought I’d be a pushover._

Slytherin made another run for the goal, but once again, Ron stood ready for them. He drifted around, faking them out, then started in for the Quaffle. 

“It’s a shame Granger doesn’t care, Weasley!” one of the chasers shouted. 

Pain filled his stomach, and Ron stole a glance at Hermione. She still sat in the stands, likely only there because Sally-Anne had dragged her. Even Luna and Neville were enjoying themselves more than Hermione. 

Then Ron realized he’d been in the middle of blocking a shot. He’d lost a second to his feelings, and that was all it’d taken. His fingertips brushed the side of the Quaffle as it flew passed and into the goal. 

Ron’s face burned, made worse by the crowd. 

_Don’t worry about them,_ he heard Sally-Anne’s voice say, _just worry about you. You can do this._

Gryffindor took possession of the Quaffle and moved it down the field. Ron kept his focus on the Quaffle, deflecting the next shot towards him. He tuned out everything else. Words and sound were only helpful if they helped him work out the next move. 

_I really can’t talk right now._

Slytherin jeered and hissed when Ron missed another goal. Their laughter rang in his ears, no matter how hard he tried tuning it out. He spotted the Quaffle moving again, this time in his team’s possession. 

“What’s the matter, Weasley?” one of the chasers said. “Can’t keep up?” 

“It’s no wonder that mudblood dumped you,” another replied. 

He gripped his broom and tried not to punch them, as impossible as it’d have been in the air. 

The chasers laughed, then one of them hissed again. Ron glanced at them as they started hissing again, louder than before. He ignored them, keeping his attention on the Quaffle. Gryffindor scored again, then the Slytherin team took possession. They never made it to him. 

Malfoy dove out of the sky, racing towards a spot on the ground not far from Ron. For a moment, Ron worried that Malfoy would catch it. Only a moment. That’s how long it took Harry to fly past Malfoy and catch it first. 

In the stands, Ginny whooped and cheered, nearly jumping up and down in her seat. 

“That was amazing!” she exclaimed. “Harry spun around and went straight for it! He must’ve been listening for Malfoy, heard him a mile off!” 

Sally-Anne smiled at Ginny’s excitement. It was nice to see that one of them was happy about it, considering she had mixed feelings. She was happy for Harry and Ron, but disappointed that all of Malfoy’s hard work had been for nothing. 

_Draco, if you put your mind to work figuring out ways to win, none of you would need to practice._

She’d seen it, although she was looking for it. Thanks to a particularly boastful Slytherin, she’d known about their plan to alert Malfoy to the snitch, giving him seven separate sets of eyes scouring the field, rather than just his. Even though they weren’t really friends, she still felt proud of him for finally putting in the effort. 

She turned her attention back to the field and saw Ron and some of the Slytherins talking. Rather, she saw them shouting at one another. 

_That can’t be good._

She got up and started down towards the field. With everyone else doing the same, she realized she’d never reach them in time to stop a fight, so she changed tactics. She found a gap in the stands, pushed her way through to it, and jumped off. A quick bubble from the Shield Rune, and she was ahead of the crowd. She took a quick look at the people on the field. Their captain, Cassius Warrington, was at the front of the pack. Crabbe and Goyle weren’t far behind him, and Malfoy was just landing. 

_Cassius is heading it. Good._

“I knew we should’ve done the song,” Cassius was saying when Sally-Anne reached them. “See, it goes something like this.” 

He took a deep breath, but before he could antagonize Ron any further, Sally-Anne arrived and shoved a piece of parchment in his hands. Cassius looked at the parchment, then at Sally-Anne. His face went pale as he read it. 

“One note, and that goes public,” she said. 

Fred, George, and Harry joined them, although they appeared just as confused as Ron. 

“You’re… you’re bluffing!” Cassius exclaimed, crumpling the parchment before anyone else could see the contents. 

“Try me,” Sally-Anne replied. 

Cassius glared at her, but she already saw the weakness in him. Using her gifts from Rose to their fullest, Sally-Anne stared him down, daring him to antagonize them any further. 

After a tense few seconds, Cassius turned back to his team. “Alright, he’s had enough. Locker rooms, now!” 

The assembled members of the Gryffindor team, stared at Sally-Anne as the Slytherin team left the pitch. 

“What was on that?” Fred asked. 

“If I told you, I’d be breaking my word,” Sally-Anne replied. She turned her attention back to her friends and smiled. “Congratulations on the win! Ron, Harry, you were both amazing!” 

Harry grinned, but Ron didn’t say much. In a moment, Angelina rounded them up and everyone else left. Sally-Anne decided she’d talk to Ron about it later. After all, he was her friend, and she was determined to make sure he was alright. 

* * *

As always, Gryffindor’s victory celebration lasted into the night. Sally-Anne kept an eye on her friends, but otherwise, she took the time to mingle amongst her classmates. 

Hermione chose to do the opposite, and pulled Harry aside. 

“I’ve been thinking about what else we could teach in the defence sessions,” she said. “I got–” 

“Do you have to tell me now?” Harry asked. 

Hermione glanced back at the bulk of the students. 

“I suppose not,” she said. “I couldn’t help but notice you weren’t watching Malfoy, but you knew when he found the Snitch.” She nodded at his bracelet. “Some might call that cheating.” 

“You’re not one to talk about morality,” Harry shot back. 

“What’s that supposed mean?” 

Harry paused for a moment, then said, “nothing.” 

“Anyway, it’s just as magic as your gloves or glasses. No reason you can’t use them.” 

Hermione didn’t spare Harry’s words another thought. As he returned to the party, she returned to thinking about their new class. They had so much to teach, she could hardly figure out a lesson plan. Stunners and the Patronus Charm needed to be a part of it. What else? What else could they use against Umbridge? 

“Rose hated parties too,” Neville said, coming up beside her. 

Hermione’s heartbeat increased for a moment, but another one and she’d calmed down. 

“She went to a party in Thars, and dragons burned it to the ground,” she explained. “She’s hated them ever since. She felt like it would happen again.” 

Thoughts of Thars brought back the World Cup. Hermione closed her eyes, trying to banish the memory back to her subconscious where it belonged. She could see the fires blazing, hear the screams of people, see the army of Death Eaters marching through— 

“Hermione.” 

Hermione’s eyes snapped open, and she returned to the present. She was still in the common room, still in Hogwarts. Still safe. 

“You alright?” Neville asked. 

“Fine.” She rubbed her eyes as the screams and lights faded away. “Just… it’s nothing.” 

Neville’s eyes darted towards the party, then back to her. 

“No, it’s not.” 

“Really, I’m fine.” 

“Not if Ron’s look is anything to go by.” 

Hermione glanced at Ron, who’s attention had turned to Lavender and Parvati. She watched him for a nearly minute, but his gaze never turned to her. 

“Wanna talk about it?” 

Hermione glanced at Ron. He cared about her, and she’d hurt him, despite her best efforts. 

_Best efforts?_ she heard Sally-Anne’s voice say. _Really? You’d call that—_

_Shut up, Princess!_

“Not really,” she said. “What about you? How’ve you been holding up?” 

Neville shrugged. “Alright. I’m more worried about Luna.” 

Hermione glared and growled under her breath. 

“I’m gonna make Umbridge regret the day she crossed Rose’s sister.” 

Thoughts of hunting down Umbridge danced in her head. Hundreds of questions about ethics followed it, but she had an answer to every one of them. 

“Rose told me dying for something was easy, because you don’t have to live with the results,” Neville said, snapping her out of her murderous fantasies. “When you kill someone, you’ve got to live with that.” 

“Sounds like something her uncle told her.” 

“Yup. According to Alavel, to help her with what happened to her brother.” 

Hermione ran through everything Neville had said about Rose. It was Rose, who hated talking about the year during which her brother had self-destructed. Hermione could hardly imagine watching that happen to someone she cared about. Seeing Rose or Professor Vector like that would’ve torn her apart. 

“She must’ve really trusted you. It took her being backed into a corner to tell me about that.” 

Neville smiled, but even Hermione could tell it was fake. She didn’t need to ask why; she knew. 

“I know you liked her. I’m so sorry, Neville.” 

Neville shrugged. “It’s what keeps me fighting. Rose, my parents, Luna. It all reminds me what’s at stake.” 

“I’ve got people like that too.” 

“Rose said it was different killing for them.” 

“So?” 

“Just something to keep in mind.” 

As much as she wasn’t in the mood for getting advice, she accepted it all the same. It was easier coming from Neville, who didn’t feel condescending like Sally-Anne, or nagging like Harry. What was everyone’s problem? 

Across the room, Sally-Anne herself was increasing her pool of information. She smiled and talked to people, trying to shove down what she’d already heard. 

_Some might call that cheating._

Harry wasn’t a cheater. He was honest and kind. Although, when she thought about it, the enchantment on his glasses might not have been legal. 

Sally-Anne pushed the thought out of her mind and chose to focus on Ron instead. He needed her support more than Harry did. 

“Good job today, Ron,” Sally-Anne told him as the party cleared up. “I’m proud of you.” 

“Thanks,” Ron said halfheartedly. 

Sally-Anne thought about what else she could do to cheer him up. Halfway to the first-year’s room, a thought struck her. 

“How’d everyone enjoy their first school Quidditch match?” she asked them. 

“That was amazing!” 

“Harry Potter’s so cool!” 

“Not as cool as Angelina Johnson!” 

“What were you doing out there?” Loretta asked. 

“Stopping a fight before it happened,” Sally-Anne replied. “The teams can be a little competitive.” 

“How?” 

“Sometimes, words are more powerful than magic.” 

She stood up and pressed her shirt. 

“As always, I’ll be up after my rounds to make sure everyone’s sleeping well.” 

“Do you have rounds every night?” one girl asked, a faint trace of horror on her face. 

“Only because I asked for it. I don’t need as much sleep as everyone else, so I figured I’d do more rounds. That way, other people won’t have to.” 

After wishing them all good night, Sally-Anne returned to the common room. Sure enough, Ron, Harry, Neville, and Ginny were all there, and Hermione was conveniently absent from Ron’s presence. 

“We don’t have rounds tonight, do we?” Ron asked. 

“I do, but you don’t,” Sally-Anne said, trying to not laugh at Ron’s horror or relief. “Why don’t we work on Transfiguration when I get back?” 

If there was one thing Ron was good at, apart from chess, it was classwork. He was clever enough to keep up with it, and his bracelet made it easy to memorize entire textbooks. Sally-Anne hoped it’d help him get his mind off Quidditch, or at least boost his confidence enough to see it in a new light. He’d done a good job, even if he was focusing on the goals he’d missed. 


	11. Diplomacy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the PCs put ranks into diplomacy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** Even if he technically bent the rules, J.K. Rowling still owns Harry Potter.

Friday night, Sally-Anne had her rounds with Malfoy again. He met her with a silent glare when she arrived in the Dungeons. 

“Good evening, Malfoy,” she said neutrally. 

He wrinkled his nose at her, glaring as they began their rounds. 

“You did wonderfully on Sunday,” she tried, but to no avail. If anything, her attempt to get through to him made it worse. She couldn’t blame him; after all his hard work, he’d still lost. Sally-Anne couldn’t help but feel bad for him. 

_Don’t forget what happened last time you entrusted him with a secret,_ she told herself. _You can’t tell him._

“Please say something,” Sally-Anne pleaded. 

“‘Oh, Malfoy, you’re just as good as they are,’” Malfoy said in a poor imitation of her. “‘I’m sure you’ll do just fine.’” 

“I’m sorry, but–” 

“I _had_ that, then your boyfriend swoops down out of nowhere to catch the Snitch. People said it was like he had eyes in the back of his head!” 

A pang of guilt threatened to eat her from the inside out. Sally-Anne forced herself not to tell him that Harry had cheated; she knew what he’d do with the information. Malfoy would spread it far and wide, and make everyone believed Harry had been cheating in every game. Harry would be ruined. 

_Technically, he has been, at least since third year._

“Then I thought ‘Maybe he does. Maybe Peta-Lorrum used one of her tricks on him.’” He folded his arms and glared at her. “Well? Did she?” 

_Crab apples._

“Malfoy–” 

“I knew it!” He turned around, as if gloating to the empty corridor. “I _knew_ it! He’s not better than me! It’s always been Peta-Lorrum!” 

“In this one case, yes, but in every other one, no.” 

“So what?” He turned back to her, sneering. “Think anyone’s going to care? Once word gets out, he’ll–” 

“If you breathe one word of this to anyone,” Sally-Anne said, stepping closer to him, “I will tear down your entire world.” 

Malfoy smirked at her. “You can’t.” 

“Watch me.” She smirked back. “You’d be surprised what people will believe when it comes from sweet, kind, trustworthy Sally-Anne Perks.” 

“You wouldn’t.” 

“If it kept my friends safe, I would tell everyone that Rose really did kill herself.” 

They stayed there for a time, glaring at one another. Sally-Anne refused to release Malfoy until she knew he wasn’t about to go blabbing to everyone he saw. 

“You can’t stop me, Perks,” Malfoy said. “No matter what you do.” 

“Then I’ll take this to Professor McGonagall,” Sally-Anne said. “ _I_ will, so she’ll know that something’s going on, and it’s not just some nasty rumor spread by a little boy with an attitude problem.” 

Malfoy wrinkled his nose at that, but nothing more. 

“I know all the equipment Rose gave him, so I can make sure he doesn’t use any of it during the next match,” Sally-Anne said. 

“How’s that helping me?” Malfoy asked. 

“It doesn’t, but it hurts Harry and Gryffindor,” Sally-Anne replied. “Think of it as a consolation prize. Our next match is either going to be against Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw, and I _know_ we don’t stand a chance without Harry.” 

Sally-Anne took a moment and got inside his head. She’d grown to hate using her pendant, but it was too important to leave anything to chance. 

_She’s got nothing. No, I’ve seen that look before. She’s got something, I just don’t know what it is yet. No way she’s bluffing; I would’ve seen it by now. Go with her for now, until I find out what she’s got._

“Alright, Perks,” he said. “You get him suspended, and I won’t tell anyone that he cheated.” 

“Done.” 

Sally-Anne backed away from Malfoy to give him room to breath. 

Malfoy huffed and adjusted his collar. “I’ve got to hand it to you, Perks, you’re a lot more cunning than I thought you were.” 

“Not really, just willing to do whatever’s necessary to keep my friends safe.” 

* * *

An owl deposited an official looking letter in front of Harry during breakfast Sunday morning. 

_Attention, Mr. Potter:_

_I write to inform you that you have been suspended from the next Quidditch match for cheating. For your own good, keep this to yourself. Do not inform the rest of the team. This is not yet official, but it may become so if there are any further problems._

_Please also turn over the following for your final match: glasses, gloves, bracelet. Any necessary objects will be replaced._

_Sincerely,_

_Professor McGonagall_

Harry scowled at the letter as he read it again. Why did everyone keep telling him he was cheating? 

“Everything alright, Harry?” 

Harry glanced at Sally-Anne. She smiled back at him, same as ever. The thought of telling her about it crossed his mind, but he decided against it. Hermione was right, in a way; Sally-Anne had a lot going on. 

“Fine,” Harry said. “Just… it’s nothing.” 

“If you want to talk about it…” 

“You’ll be the first to know.” 

Harry smiled back at her. It couldn’t have been her. There was no motive, no indication that she was worried about him finding out. Besides, she was one of his best friends, and she didn’t know about the bracelet. Only Hermione and Alavel did, which almost certainly meant Hermione. 

He still hadn’t brought up how she’d been acting. Sure, he could’ve at the party, but he’d just wanted to celebrate their victory. Why did everyone keep taking Quidditch from him? It was the one escape he had. 

After breakfast, he tracked down Alavel and explained to him what had happened. 

“Had I known you’d use it to cheat,” Alavel said later, “I never would’ve given it to you in the first place.” 

“I didn’t cheat!” 

“Using a foreign object unique to yourself to gain an advantage your opponent doesn’t have is the very definition of cheating.” 

“But—” 

“ _Blindsight_ isn’t strictly within the rules either, but there’s little you can do about it.” 

“Did you tell McGonagall about it?” 

“Of course, not. While I agree with her punishment, I would’ve approached you first.” 

Harry scowled, trying to piece together the puzzle. Only he, Alavel, and Hermione knew about the bracelet, but as Hermione had said, they might not have realized he’d used the bracelet. If they’d know that Rose had made it, they could’ve assumed it did something. 

“Before you get carried away, might I make a suggestion?” Alavel asked. 

“Sure.” 

“You brought this on yourself by using the bracelet to win. I don’t know if I’d call _blindsight_ cheating, but the bracelet most certainly is. I believe it best that the matter was resolved quietly, and that you not worry about what happened any further. Better that this be handled now, than to have this ruin your career before it had a chance to flourish.” 

Harry clenched his fists and opened his mouth to protest, but Alavel cut him off. 

“Better one match than all of them. Wouldn’t you agree?” 

“It still isn’t fair,” Harry grumbled. “Whoever did this to me is one of my friends!” 

“If they hadn’t gone easy on you, how do you think it would’ve turned out?” 

“They didn’t have to say anything! They could’ve kept their mouth shut!” 

“And as I said already, someone else was bound to notice eventually. Someone less kind.” 

“You can’t know that.” 

“I believe I can. Many people study the players, and they would notice miraculous catches if they kept happening.” 

Harry glanced at Alavel. He should’ve known better than to go to him for help. 

“I will talk with the rest of your friends and convince the culprit to come clean. Perhaps then we can put this whole incident behind us.” 

Harry opened his mouth to shout, but closed it when he realized why Alavel was doing this. Alavel always looked out for him, and Harry knew the Nimblewright had his back. As the day went on, Harry relaxed. By dinner, he wasn’t even angry anymore. Maybe someone was just looking out for him. As he gave it more thought, he realized that no one else had approached him. He’d have expected Malfoy of all people to try using it as blackmail. Even though Harry knew Malfoy wasn’t all bad, he was still Malfoy. He of all people should’ve figured it out. 

Harry frowned at his food. Maybe Malfoy already had figured it out. But McGonagall wouldn’t have believed him; it was Malfoy. He was always spreading lies about other people, or at least about Harry. She had no reason to trust him. Besides, knowing what he did about Malfoy, the Slytherin wouldn’t have gone to an authority figure, he’d have just spread it far and wide that the great Harry Potter was nothing but a cheater. 

As that thought entered his mind, Harry realized he knew exactly who it was. 

“Sally-Anne, can we talk?” he asked her on their way back from dinner. 

“Of course.” She nodded towards the empty corridor. “Room of Requirement?” 

“Here’s fine.” 

“Okay.” She smiled at him. “What’s troubling you?” 

“Did you tell McGonagall I cheated during the match last week?” 

The smile faded from Sally-Anne’s face, and Harry knew he had her. 

“Yes.” 

After months of listening to Umbridge call him a liar to his face, Sally-Anne’s honesty gave him some comfort to the fact that his friend had gotten him suspended. 

“What for? Why would you do that?” 

Sally-Anne’s voice remained calm as she spoke. “What you did was wrong, Harry. You cheated. I know being allowed to use everything else Rose gave you might have made that unclear, but you still did. Malfoy worked hard to win that match, and all you had to do to win was to use something you shouldn’t have had in the first place. It wasn’t fair to him.” 

Her response caught him off guard. He had expected that she’d gone to McGonagall to head off the rumors early, or to save him from further punishment. But it was just about Malfoy. 

“So he’s more important than me?” 

“I didn’t say that.” 

“I’m not allowed to play!” 

“It’s just one match.” 

“For now, but… I didn’t say that.” 

He studied her face, her body language, but everything was neutral. There was no way for him to know what was on her mind. 

“You didn’t have to, because I’m the one that suggested it.” 

“What?!” 

“I recommended that we keep it quiet. She’ll have a reason that you won’t be able to play against Hufflepuff, so no one needs to know. A lot of people are jealous of your talent, and there shouldn’t have been any reason for you to cheat. Since you did, it was only a matter of time before it was discovered, and all those jealous players would make it seem as if you’ve been cheating the whole time. We both know that’s not true; you’re a brilliant player, and you don’t need that bracelet to win. Or anything else Rose gave you, for that matter. We worked out a way to keep it quiet, and I’ve already headed off any rumors I hear about it, which is all of them.” 

She stopped talking for a moment, and Harry took the time to size her up. She was serious about what she was saying, and Harry couldn’t argue with her. Just as Alavel had said, if he’d kept it up, someone else was bound to notice, and he hadn’t even thought about people claiming he’d been cheating the entire time. 

“And, if they’d kicked you off the team, you wouldn’t be allowed to be a TA, and I know you love that.” 

“You still let her suspend me.” 

“I didn’t let her do anything. I negotiated a punishment that would let you play Quidditch and be allowed to stay a TA. If she’d suspended you further, it would’ve looked suspicious.” 

Harry kept opening his mouth to argue, driven by little other than anger. Conflicted between his understanding of her actions and his anger at not being able to play Quidditch, he found himself at a loss for words. 

“No one’s above the rules, Harry. They exist for a reason.” 

“Since when do you even know the rules to Quidditch?” 

“I’m dating Viktor Krum, of course I know the rules to Quidditch!” she snapped. Sally-Anne paused for a moment, and when she spoke again, her voice was calm. “If you’d played fair, Malfoy would’ve won that match. How do you think he feels?” 

“Who cares how Malfoy feels?” 

“I do.” 

“Fine. Then maybe he can be your friend, because I’m done.” 

Harry turned and stormed off. He’d half expected Sally-Anne to call him back, but she didn’t say anything. It was just Harry and the silent castle. 

* * *

Sally-Anne watched Harry storm off, her face still neutral. She didn’t let herself relax until after he’d rounded the corner. 

“He didn’t mean that,” she told herself. “After being stubborn for a little while, he’ll come round.” 

She ran through her schedule for the night to take her mind off the situation with Harry. 

“Speaking of stubborn. I’ve got rounds with Ronald tonight. That should be… quiet.” 

As expected, Ron was in no talking mood. Sally-Anne could tell he was still down about missing one or two goals, which she figured would only get worse with time. It wasn’t until they got back to the common room that Sally-Anne got more than a few words out of him. 

“Ron, we’ve got to work on the summoning charm for Professor Flitwick. Would you mind giving me a little help?” 

A few minutes later, Sally-Anne learned she needed much more than just a little help. 

“Emphasis goes on the first syllable when you say it,” Ron instructed. “AW-see-oh. And don’t flourish your wand so much. It’s just a quick movement.” 

Sally-Anne aimed her wand at the quill and tried again. 

“ _Accio quill!_ ” 

The quill fluttered a few centimeters from the table, then returned to rest. 

“Flick your wand more.” He took hold of her wrist and hand, then moved her hand up and down. “See? No more than that.” 

Sally-Anne practiced moving her wand up and down. She started slow, then got faster and faster. 

“Like this?” 

“Just like that. Now give the quill another go.” 

“ _Accio quill!_ ” 

The quill flew off the table and into her outstretched hand. 

“You did it!” 

“I can’t believe you could do that as a second-year,” she said through small fits of laughter. 

“Hardly. I didn’t know it was gonna work on Hermione. I just…” 

Sally-Anne felt a pang of guilt at bringing up Hermione, even if it was unintentional. 

“Never mind her. You’re a Quidditch star now. Plenty of girls love that.” 

Ron gave her a crooked smile, and she nearly rolled her eyes. 

“Hold on,” she said, pulling a letter from Viktor out of her pack. In an unintentional imitation of Viktor’s voice, she read, “ _No way rookie player stops nearly every goal. You said at least 10 on first go. Tell freckle boy to buck it up and get over silly missed goals._ ” 

That cheered Ron up a little. 

“Did… did he really say that?” 

Sally-Anne folded the letter to hide a specific part of it, then showed him the part of it she’d been reading. 

“Wow.” 

“Unless you think Viktor Krum’s not worth listening to,” Sally-Anne said. 

Ron had nothing to say to that. He stared at the letter again, his face turning a faint shade of red. 

Sally-Anne slowly withdrew it, not wanting to rudely rip it away from him, but not wanting him to have too much time to go through her personal life. After a moment of silence, Ron motioned to the quill in her hand. 

“I’ve… I’ve just practiced this a lot,” Ron said, changing the topic back to their charms work. “So… don’t feel bad if you can’t get it.” 

“I wasn’t worried, but thank you.” She smiled at him again, hoping it was helping. “Your people skills are improving.” 

“Not all of us practice.” 

Sally-Anne motioned to the quill in her hand. “But if I want to pass Charms, I’ve got to practice, so thank you.” 

Ron smiled, but shifted uncomfortably. 

“In a fight, what do you do if there’s nothing left to move?” Sally-Anne asked, bringing up a question she’d had for months. 

“I’ve been thinking about that. I thought I could try animation next.” 

“What made you think of that?” 

“That chess match from first-year. The one when we were the pieces.” 

Sally-Anne tightened her grip on the quill as her mind drifted back to that day. She hadn’t known Ron that well back then, but she’d had faith that Hermione wouldn’t have let them down. 

“I remember. You tried sacrificing yourself to help us win.” 

“Erm… yeah, I suppose I did.” 

Sally-Anne realized she was glaring at him, and relaxed so as not to frighten him. 

“You called yourself ‘useless’.” 

“Erm… it got me thinking I could animate pieces of my own and use them in a fight.” 

Sally-Anne put the chess match aside and smiled at Ron again. 

“That’s a brilliant idea. Have you asked your mum about it? She’s brilliant at animation. I’m sure she’d have some good suggestions.” 

Ron made a bitter face. 

“I know you don’t like talking to her, but she could be a lot of help.” 

“I don’t mind talking to her, just… she’s always bugging me, then she yells at me and says ‘Why can’t you be more like Percy?’ He doesn’t even write anymore! What’s so special about him?” 

Sally-Anne listened, and when Ron finished venting, she prepared to protest. She knew enough about Mrs. Weasley to know she cared a great deal about all her children. Then she remembered how Harry had been about talking to Sirius, and switched tactics. 

“Remember when you wrote to her in third year?” 

“And she sent me a howler?” 

“Exactly. Let me help you write to her, and I’ll make sure she doesn’t yell at you again. You’ll probably have to start writing her regular letters, but she’s your mum. She’s just worried about you.” 

Ron groaned at the prospect of writing letters to his mum. 

“Don’t worry.” She smiled at him. “I’ll be right there to help you. Who knows? Maybe the next lecture you’ll hear her give will end with ‘Why can’t you be more like Ronald?’” 

While Ron ran up to his room to fetch his own quill and parchment, Sally-Anne pulled out the letter from Viktor again. She skipped ahead to the end, the main reason she’d kept it on her person for so long. 

_I look forward to seeing your beautiful face once more. It shines like million suns. That you chose me of all people to grace with it still amazes me._

_Love,_

_Viktor_

Her heart pounded at the word “love”, and she felt her face grow hot. Considering earlier in the same letter he’d used the phrase “buck it up”, she was certain he’d gotten Andrei and Vlad to help him with the final few sentences. They were much better at English (and words in general) than Viktor. That he cared so much about her to risk embarrassing himself like that spoke volumes. 

She quickly folded the parchment and gently placed it in her pack. Straightening up so Ron wouldn’t notice anything different, she pushed thoughts of Viktor towards the back of her mind. Not before one last thought surfaced for a moment. 

_I love you too, Viktor._

* * *

Harry paced up and down the corridor with several students in tow. He, Neville, and Hermione had decided it best to use the Room of Requirement, but not to tell anyone how to open it. Thus, when they arrived, either the door would already be on the wall, or they’d silently activate it. He opened the door, leading the last group into the Room of Requirement. It was a little amusing to hear them gasping in amazement, despite many of them having lived there for a year or more. 

“Alright, let’s begin,” Hermione said. “One of the most important things about fighting a wizard is—” 

“That we’re not learning to fight,” Harry cut in. “There are plenty of spells that can incapacitate an opponent long enough to get away or get help. That’s what we’re focusing on here.” 

“On what we’re focusing,” Hermione muttered. 

Harry shot her a glare before continuing. 

“Although it is important to remember that we’ve all got a weakness.” Harry held up his wand. “Without a wand, most people can’t use magic. Remember that entire sentence, especially the word ‘most’.” He caught Hermione smirking at him from the corner of his eye. “Also remember that some witches and wizards carry backups with them, in case they lose their first wand. But for most people, getting their wand away from them is enough.” He motioned to Neville, who had taken a place on his other side. “The spell we’re working on today is also helpful against opponents who simply fight with weapons, like Neville. As anyone who was here last year can recall, Neville fought using the Sword of Gryffindor. The _Expelliarmus_ Charm can disarm any weapon from someone.” 

Neville and Harry turned to face one another. With his sword in hand, Neville held it at the ready, while Harry fired off a quick charm. 

“ _Expelliarmus!_ ” 

As anticipated, nothing happened. 

“Now unfortunately,” Harry said, turning back to the disappointed crowd, “the Sword of Gryffindor is enchanted so it can’t be disarmed. Frustrating, sure, but a good defence against this spell. My mate Ron has a strap attached to his wand, which makes it harder to draw, but also harder for someone to disarm.” He motioned to Ginny, who sat at the front of the crowd. “Ginny’s got her wand almost physically attached to her arm, which makes casting harder, but nearly impossible to remove without outright destroying it.” He motioned to Hermione. “Hermione is the reason I said ‘most’ people can’t use magic. She’s worked hard to learn to cast wandlessly, but due to reasons anyone taking Arithmancy will eventually learn, it’s a lot easier to just use your wand and be happy with that.” 

Harry turned towards Hermione, who had her own wand drawn. 

“Like I showed you with Neville, the _Expelliarmus_ charm is easy to use. It’s just a quick flick of your wand, and your opponent’s wand goes flying. There’s not a lot to do against it, although if you’re fast enough, you might be able to catch it. But don’t feel bad if you can’t; most people can’t. In fact, if someone can, they’ve put a lot of practice into being that fast. It probably means your facing a seasoned duelist or Seeker.” 

Harry paused, considering adding Rose to that list, but decided against it. If he was going to be practicing against Hermione, it wasn’t a good idea to bring up Rose. 

He held his wand ready, bowed to Hermione, then fired off another quick charm. Sure enough, her own wand flew behind her. If she noticed, she didn’t care. Several students gasped and giggled. 

“See? Nothing to it. Now I want you all to form lines down the sides of the room and practice disarming one another.” Before he’d finished the sentence, students were already forming pairs and grouping up with their friends. “Remember, It’s not a competition to see who can disarm the other the most. You all need to get practice, so it’s alright to take it easy on each other, or take turns if you need to.” 

Harry watched them for a moment, then turned to Neville. 

“Neville, you can practice on Hermione.” 

“Ha,” Neville replied. “The only reason I can get _lumos_ right every time is because that was the only way I could read my watch in the forest.” 

Harry knew well that Neville was rubbish at magic, but part of him still wanted to see his friend succeed. 

“You might need this more than anyone else, then,” he said. “Why don’t you—” 

“I’ll practice with you!” a voice that could only belong to Luna said. 

Harry motioned for them to join the group of students shouting various forms of _Expelliarmus_ at each other. Neville reluctantly fell in line, leaving Harry, Ginny, and Hermione up front. 

“Ginny, why don’t—” 

“ _Expelliarmus!_ ” 

Harry’s reflexes kicked in, and he grabbed his wand before it left his person. The few students that had seen it cheered, leaving their friends to wonder why. 

“Good work.” 

Ginny beamed at him. 

Harry went down the lines, adjusting peoples’ work as he went. It wasn’t the most difficult of charms, but it was still good to see everyone getting the hang of it. He’d gotten plenty of use out of it, and despite each of his friends having a means of getting around it, disarming a wizard was the best way to stop one. 

“Colin,” he whispered on his way past the fourth-year, catching his wand as it flew past. “Don’t wave your arm around when you’re casting.” Harry brought his arm up and flicked his wrist. “See? Just your wrist, not your whole arm.” 

Colin nodded, took his wand, then turned back to his partner. The pair of them bowed again, then Colin brought up his arm, keeping it steady, and flicked his wrist. 

This time, his opponent’s wand went flying, and he squealed in excitement. 

“I did it!” he exclaimed. 

“Well done, that was perfect,” Harry said. 

“It’s the easiest thing in the world,” he heard Hermione say. 

“It’s hard to focus with everyone else yelling,” one of the first-year Gryffindors said. Harry was pretty sure the boy’s name was Tim. 

“Don’t worry. During a battle, people will be completely silent so you can concentrate. I’m sure if—” 

“Hermione!” Harry shouted, having started towards them at “battle”. “That’s enough. Go up front, or—” 

“Are you giving me orders?” she snapped. 

“Since we agreed I’d be in charge, yes.” 

Hermione glared at him for a moment, and Harry recognized a defiance in her eyes that reminded him of Rose. 

“Fine, Scarface.” With that, Hermione pushed her way back up to the front of the class and sat next to Ginny. 

“Tim, right?” Harry asked, turning back to the boy. 

“Yeah.” 

Harry leaned over to put himself closer to the boy. 

“Don’t worry about the stuff Hermione just said. This is just practice. You can’t expect to get it perfect on your first try, but you’ve got plenty of time. Just relax, and try to block out the noise.” 

Tim tried a few more times on his partner, but couldn’t manage to move the wand. 

“It’s alright,” Harry said after the fifth try. “Keep practicing. You’ve heard about my friend Neville, right? What he did last year?” 

“I heard he fought a giant metal bug.” 

“It was way cooler than that, but the point is, he can’t cast this spell. I mean, he sort of can, just not that well. It’s alright if you can’t get it at first, it just takes time.” 

It wasn’t long before they called the meeting and everyone left. Many of them thanked Harry for his help, or at least saying bye. Hermione was one of the first ones out, leaving Harry on his own in the Room of Requirement. He sat down, only jumping when the door opened. 

“I see quite a few happy students,” Alavel said, closing the door behind him. “And one rather grouchy looking Lady Brain. I hope everything went alright.” 

“Yeah, it was fine. They’re all really good at it. I think Tim… I don’t know his last name, is having the most trouble with it, but I think he’ll do alright.” 

“Nertlyn,” Alavel said. “He’s Jonathon and Brett’s younger brother.” 

“That’s right, Sally-Anne said Alex had three cousins,” Harry said. His spirits sank a little. “As much as it annoys me what she did, I still wish we had her here. She’s a lot better at this than I am.” 

“Working with people? Perhaps. But teaching? Only you could’ve made such a great connection with those students on your first day. I saw their faces as they left; Lady Brain may not think much of our methods, but I can see they’re effective. You should write to Remus and let him know; he may even be more proud than Sirius.” 

Harry sat down on the desk the room had provided them. “I always liked the way he’d sit on his desk sometimes. Made him seem less like a teacher, more like just another student.” 

The pair sat in silence for a few minutes before deciding they’d been missing long enough. With little more said between them, they left the Room of Requirement. Harry found himself glad that they’d started their little club. If they hadn’t, he’d never have realized how much he liked teaching defence. 


	12. Playing With Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Brain plays with fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling owns the original spell, but I own the Eldritch Horror it creates.

Neville tumbled aside a bolt of fire, closing the distance between him and Hermione. With a quick flick of his sword, he deflected another spell. An arm of stone reached out from the ground, but he cleaved through it and vaulted off its remains. 

A wave of Hermione’s hand sent a burst of wind at him. He tossed the sword and pulled himself out of the path of the spell. The moment he was free, he flung the sword at her. She swiveled towards him, then knocked the sword away. 

Neville smirked, then whipped the sword into Hermione. 

“Ah!” 

She went down, but got to her feet before Neville had the sword in his hand. She flung her hand out and turned the ground to ice before he’d had a chance to get closer. He quickly adapted to the unfamiliar terrain and slid towards Hermione. Crouching low, he kept his gaze fixed on her. 

Hermione took a step back and slid on her own ice. He saw sparks forming at the end of her fingertips and hurled the sword to a wall. The vine wrenched him out of the blast zone before Hermione sent an explosion through the Room of Requirement. 

When the smoke cleared and he could hear again, Neville heard not the sound of frustration, but laughter. 

“You’re mad.” 

Hermione picked herself up and dusted the soot of her clothes. “I nearly had you.” 

“Only because I’m not used to ice,” he replied. “Still, that was good thinking.” 

“Let’s see the Ministry try to come after me!” 

One look at the triumph in her eyes gave Neville a bad feeling. 

“It’s been months, but the Ministry hasn’t made a move yet,” he said. “Are you sure they’re going to?” 

“Of course! They sent a Dementor after Harry and I. Umbridge is spreading lies about Rose. She tried to scare Luna into being quiet! They’re afraid of us! It’s only a matter of time before they come to silence us for good, and we’ve got to be ready!” 

It’d only been a few weeks since their first practice session. In that time, Hermione had become far less afraid of her potential, and taken up silent casting. It didn’t surprise Neville that she’d nearly mastered it. All she did was sleep, study, and train. He’d even heard her complaining that she had to lose two hours every day to sleep. 

“I guess you’re right,” Neville said, thinking of Luna. “I’m glad we’ve got you on our side.” He stretched for a moment, catching a glimpse of his watch, then started for the door. 

“Already?” Hermione asked. “But we’re just getting warmed up.” 

“Another explosion like that, and we certainly will be,” Neville said. “I’m meeting Luna in a few minutes, so I’ve got to get going. She found some obscure detail of the Ministry’s policies on magical creatures that she thinks will help our investigation.” 

“So long as that’s all you’re doing with her.” 

Neville frowned, convinced he’d heard her wrong, and spun on his heel to face her. “Care to explain?” 

“You heard me. She’s naive, and I don’t want you taking advantage of her. She’s my best friend’s little sister, and I’m not—” 

“Rose is my friend too, probably the best friend I’ve ever had, although Luna comes in at a close second. Why would you even think I’m trying to take advantage of her?” 

“Because,” Hermione said, smirking like she’d never been wrong in her life, “it’s my job to keep her safe.” 

Neville blinked, then shook his head and left the Room of Requirement. 

“Harry’s right, she’s losing it,” he muttered. 

“Who’s losing what?” 

Neville smiled and turned to Luna. 

“Nothing to worry about. What was this thing you found?” 

Luna stood up from her spot in front of the troll tapestry and motioned for him to follow her. 

“It was in an article in the library,” she said. “Madame Pince wouldn’t let me check it out… or touch it, but I grabbed it when she wasn’t looking. It’s a good thing Illumians don’t get any Perception bonuses.” 

“Illumian?” Neville asked, certain he’d heard the word somewhere. 

“They’re from De’rok, but I think there might be some here, too. Rose says they love books, but they’re awful possessive of them. I think Madame Pince might be one.” 

Luna shrugged. It made an awful lot of sense. Why else did the librarian of Hogwarts refuse to let anyone check out books? 

“I memorized where it is, so…” Luna’s voice trailed off, and Neville heard the familiar sound of Luna smelling the air. “Hello, Melody.” 

They rounded a corner and found Melody, standing stalk still and staring at them. 

Luna took another whiff of air. “Don’t be afraid, it’s just us.” 

“I… I…” 

Neville realized he hadn’t seen Melody at meals in weeks. The more he thought about it, the more he realized the exact time she’d stopped sitting with them. 

“It’s alright,” he said. “I know why you’re afraid.” 

At their feet, Tutela’s ears perked up. She glanced at Neville, then started trotting off to the side of the corridor. 

_She’s gonna run for it,_ Neville thought. _It’s all over her face. I’d rather not make a scene, but if necessary, Tutela can outrun her._

“I… I didn’t mean to!” Melody cried. “I’m… I’m sorry!” 

She turned around and tripped over Tutela. Neville lunged forward and grabbed her before she fell to the stone floor. 

“It’s alright,” he said. “Melody, it’s alright.” 

Neville hauled Melody to her feet, then stepped back to give her space. 

“I…” Melody’s head whipped between Tutela, Neville, and Luna, sending her black braids flying around her face. Tears welled up in her eyes. “I…” 

“Oh!” Luna exclaimed. “You told Umbridge about us.” 

“That’s right,” Neville said. “She stopped sitting with us just around the time Umbridge found you, and she was the only other person who knew about our investigation.” 

“I didn’t mean to! But she brought me to her office, and told me that bad things might happen! Happen to my parents! It was bad enough when they split up, but if either of them were sacked, it’d be horrible! I didn’t want to talk to her, honest! It’s not that I believe the things she says about Rose! I promise!” 

Neville glanced at Luna, who still smiled as serenely as ever. If anything Melody had done bothered her, it wasn’t showing. 

“Why’d she talk to you?” Neville asked. “Did she say?” 

Melody shook her head. “No, I swear she didn’t!” 

“Melody, calm down,” Neville said. “We’re not mad.” 

Melody wiped tears out of her eyes. “You’re not?” 

“Should we be?” Luna asked. 

“I… I thought…” 

“We can’t tell you about anything else going on, but we’re not mad,” Neville said. “Not even a little.” 

“But… but…” 

“I’d do anything to make Daddy happy.” 

Melody stopped crying and wiped more tears out of her eyes. 

“You’re not mad.” 

“Neither of us can fault you for wanting to help your parents,” Neville said with a smile on his face. 

“Thank you!” Melody said, trying not to cry. 

“We’ve got to be off,” Neville said, stepping aside so Melody wouldn’t feel crowded. “We’ll see you around, alright?” 

“Okay!” Melody squealed as she ran off. 

Neville, Tutela, and Luna watched her leave, then Neville turned to Luna. 

“I think Brain’s wrong. The Ministry might be coming after us, but they’re not going to do it with force.” 

“Rose always hated it when they did that,” Luna said. “It’s a lot harder to solve.” 

“Maybe for her, but not for us.” Neville motioned down the corridor. “Come on. We’ve got a mystery to solve.” 

* * *

“Today, we’re all going to try something a lot more complicated than the stuff we’ve been doing,” Harry said. “First, how many of you are in your third year or above?” 

Most of his students raised their hands. 

“Anyone not raising your hand, look around. These are the people that were here two years ago. Also on the grounds two years ago were a lot of Dementors. They’re the guardians of Azkaban, charged with keeping the prisoners inside. They can fly, aren’t affected by most forms of magic, create frost wherever they go, and feed on happy memories.” 

Several of the students — mostly those who had raised their hands — shuddered. 

“It’s also worth noting that Muggles can’t see Dementors. The easiest way to notice them is by the frost on the ground that spreads out around them. If you see one, the best thing to do is to get away as fast as you can. Like I said, most spells don’t work on them, but there is one that does.” 

Harry brandished his wand, and called out his happiest memories: the Christmas he’d gotten his _Firebolt_ , telling Ellie he loved her, and sitting and talking with Sirius, Remus, and Alavel. The warmth spread through his body, making him feel as if he were about to fly. 

“ _Expecto Patronum!_ ” 

A brilliant light filled the Room of Requirement, and a shining stag leapt out of his wand. It pranced around the air, hypnotizing the students, before finally settling down beside him. 

“This is called a Patronus. It’s hard to cast a fully-formed one, even for seventh-years. I’ve seen few other students do it while I’ve been here. It always takes the shape of an animal, and it’s different for everyone. For me, it’s a stag, but for Hermione, it’s an otter. Professor Flitwick’s is an owl, Professor Dumbledore’s is a phoenix, and a former student called Alex has a grizzly bear.” 

There were some snickers from her cousins, while Harry allowed his Patronus to vanish. 

“The hard part of casting a Patronus Charm is that you need a happy memory. The happiest memory you’ve got. If you can only see it, but can’t feel it, it won’t do. You’ve got to feel the warmth of it filling you up. At first, I thought of flying, but that wasn’t good enough. It could be talking with your friends, or some special day with your parents. Before we go any further, I want everyone to take a moment and come up with their happiest memories. It’s alright if it’s not powerful enough; I don’t expect anyone to get this on their first try. It took me years to get it right.” 

He sat back on the desk, glancing out over the students. Once again, Hermione and Neville stood up front with him. He knew Neville couldn’t get it, although he’d have loved to see what his patronus would be. 

After a few minutes, he added another important part of the lecture. 

“The reason we’re going over this is that this is one of the hardest spells to cast in the field. When you’re surrounded by Dementors, they’re going to try taking every happy memory you’ve got. It will leave you feeling hopeless, empty, and that makes this spell that much harder to cast. We may not be able to have an actual Dementor here — or Professor Lupin taught my friends and I with a boggart — but it’s good to have at least some practice.” 

One of the first-year girls, Loretta, raised her hand. 

“Yes, Loretta?” 

“I thought Dementors didn’t leave Azkaban except to hunt down evil wizards.” 

Harry pressed his lips together before continuing. He’d become familiar with Loretta’s matter-of-fact way of talking, but it still made him laugh how much she sounded like Hermione had their first year. 

“That’s how it’s supposed to work.” He paused for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts before saying something against the Ministry. As much as he was at odds with them, Alavel had pointed out that saying anything against them wouldn’t do anyone any good. Despite what Hermione thought, and despite their name, their club wasn’t a movement against the Ministry. “But that’s not how it always works. Like I said, the Ministry sent them here two years ago while trying to hunt down Sirius Black. Sirius was innocent, but he wasn’t given a trial, so they never knew. No one stopped and thought about it, they just decided—” 

Alavel, posted near the door as always, cleared his throat. 

“Anyway, on the train ride here, one searched the Hogwarts Express. It ignored its orders and went straight for my friends and I, who were a concentration of negativity. Dementors draw out negative emotions. It’s how they hunt, so to them, we were all easy targets. You’re right, Dementors are only supposed to go after criminals, but they don’t always follow orders. Anyone here that year can tell you all about the Quidditch match they interrupted when they sensed the concentration of happiness and excitement. In case you ever encounter a rogue Dementor, it’s best to be prepared.” 

Another hand went up, this time from Colin. 

“Colin?” 

“What about the Dementor’s Kiss?” 

Harry paused for a moment, wanting to avoid the subject after what the knowledge of it had done to Sally-Anne. He also knew the danger of keeping people in the dark. 

“Before I tell you all what it is, you should know that it’s… upsetting. A friend of mine was in a bad state after she found out about it.” He saw a few glances towards Hermione and added, “No, not that friend.” 

With a few giggles to indicate that they were relaxed, Harry took one last look at his students’ faces. They all looked curious, apart from those who clearly already knew. He could tell by looking that Cedric, Angelina, even Max all already knew. 

“The Dementor’s Kiss is when a Dementor lowers its hood and sucks out your soul. No, that’s not a figure of speech, it literally sucks out your soul from your body, leaving you a shell. They don’t do it often, but it’s best to avoid getting too close to Dementors, if only to avoid this.” 

Harry looked out and saw discomfort in most faces. 

“It’s alright to feel uneasy about this. Like I said before, a good friend of mine is uneasy talking about them, and— Yes, Loretta?” 

“Is it Sally-Anne Perks?” she asked as she put her hand down. 

Harry realized he shouldn’t have given them a definitive answer about whether it was Hermione, then gave the answer he should’ve given. 

“Whoever it is, I’m sure she wouldn’t appreciate people talking about her behind her back. As I was saying, even if Dementors make people uncomfortable, they’re still something we’ve got to know how to handle. So everyone, try practicing.” Everyone started getting up and talking, forcing Harry to raise his voice to be heard. “Remember, it’s complicated, so don’t worry if you can’t get it.” 

He watched them all for a moment, then got up and walked over to Neville. 

“I told you that you didn’t have to come today,” he said. 

“No, it’s fine,” Neville said. Harry followed his gaze, and found it shifting between Ginny, Hermione, and Luna. 

“It is nice having an extra set of eyes,” Harry said. “You sure you’ll be alright against a Dementor?” 

“Remember, Rose gave me the sword in third year. She put _ghost touch_ on it.” 

“And of course by ‘gave you the sword’, you mean ‘stole it from Professor Dumbledore’.” 

“I offered to give it back to him when I found out,” Neville said, “but he insisted that I hold on to it.” 

Flashes of bright white light lit up the room as a myriad of shining animals flew through the air. 

“That’s amazing!” Harry exclaimed, looking around for the owners. He was certain they were coming from the seventh-years, but it was still impressive. 

“ _Expecto Patronum!_ ” 

He caught the distinct sound of Ginny’s voice and looked to her just in time to see a phoenix erupt out of her wand. The fire bird ( _Of course her patronus has fire in it_ ) flew through the air for just a moment, then vanished. 

“Ginny, well done!” 

Ginny grinned at him, then turned her attention to the group of boys flocking towards her to congratulate her. 

Neville watched in amazement as more and more animals filled the room. Part of him was jealous that they could do something he’d resigned himself to never doing, but all the same, it was brilliant to see the students really work hard. 

He turned his attention to Luna and saw her idly watching everyone else. Every few minutes, she would give the Patronus Charm another shot, but she didn’t get much more than a faint wisp of light. While Ginny had natural talent, years of practice, and determination that bordered on insanity, Luna had foregone the practices with Professor Lupin two years ago, claiming that she simply couldn’t do it. 

He’d always found it odd that Luna, the most positive person he knew, couldn’t cast the Patronus Charm. He couldn’t cast it because he was bad at magic, but Luna was good at it. 

Hermione stepped into his field of view, moving towards Luna. Neville exchanged glances with Harry, then nodded towards the pair of girls. 

“I’d be worried if it were anyone else, but I think Luna can handle herself,” Harry said. 

Neville frowned at Harry. “You don’t know her very well, do you?” 

Harry shrugged. “No, but I know Hermione, and I don’t think she’ll get too carried away with Luna.” 

“I’ll give you that one.” 

Neville kept his focus on the girls, but he noticed Harry drifting around to the other students. 

“I’ve got them covered,” Neville said. 

“Thanks.” 

Harry went around to the other students, leaving Neville on his own to keep tabs on Hermione and Luna. 

“Look, it’s easy,” Hermione said. “You must be able to find a memory happy enough. Even I can find one happy enough.” 

Neville balled his fists and started towards the girls. 

“I just can’t,” Luna said softly. 

“Come on, it’s easy,” Hermione said. 

“Leave her be, Brain.” 

“I’m helping, which is the only thing I’m allowed to do!” Hermione snapped. She turned back to Luna. “Watch.” 

Hermione closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. She reached out her hand and a shining light flew out of it. The light formed into an otter. 

Except with two heads. 

“What is that?” 

“That’s an odd looking animal.” 

Hermione herself had one hand on her head, but lowered it after a moment. 

“See?” she panted. “Easiest thing in the world.” 

“Hermione!” 

Harry came running over to them. 

“I specifically told you not to do that,” he said. “After last time, you—” 

“I’m fine!” 

Anyone that heard Hermione’s voice could tell she was wrong. Her own voice came out as a distorted shriek, a sound mirrored by her patronus. Both heads started screeching, causing several other animals and balls of light to vanish. 

“Just let me help! I can help!” 

Luna backed away from Hermione and closer to Neville. 

Above them, the patronus flew in chaotic circles through the air. Its two heads started fighting, and the white light started to change to gray. 

“Hermione, dismiss the spell!” Harry ordered. 

“I’m just trying to help! I’ve got to help!” 

Hermione brought her hands back to her head. People started moving away from them. Most of the students looked terrified of the monster floating through the air above their heads. 

“Hermione!” Harry shouted again. 

“I’m fine, really,” Luna said, now standing next to Neville. “I… I…” 

Alavel pushed his way through the crowd, keeping a close eye on all of them. 

“Lady Brain, if I may, you—” 

“I’m fine!” 

The otter turned black and dove at Luna. Neville had the Sword of Gryffindor in his hand and raised in attack before it reached her. The sword cleaved through the monstrosity, but the otter split into two pieces. Both pieces fell to the ground, and tentacles sprang up from them. 

People screamed and ran for the door. Harry’s head darted between each of them, then he started ushering the students away from the scene. A purple fog spread from Hermione herself. She fell to her knees, but kept her gaze fixed on Luna. She groaned something that sounded like the word “help”. 

The tentacles shot towards Luna. Neville held his position by her side. He sliced through one group of tentacles, but more sprang up from the floor and wrapped around Luna. Neville tried cutting through them, but they regrew faster than he could manage them. 

_THWACK!_

Alavel delivered a blow to the back of Hermione’s head. She went down in a heap, and the tentacles turned to sludge. No one spoke a word as the fog cleared, leaving an eerie silence over the Room of Requirement. 

“Alright, everyone,” Harry said. “That’s enough for today. Is everyone alright?” 

Students shakily nodded or asked questions that Harry refused to directly answer. Luna collapsed next to Neville and wrapped her arms around herself. 

“Never mind what just happened, we’ll sort it. Everyone did a great job today. Really, it’s not an easy spell, so good work. Same as always, Taltria will help you all get out.” 

Neville turned to Alavel. “Tell Taltria to—” 

“Tutela is already on her way.” 

On cue, the door flew open, and Tutela bolted inside. She went straight for Luna, barreling through anyone in her way, including a concerned Cedric heading for Hermione. 

“Is she…?” he asked Alavel as Tutela settled next to Luna and Neville. 

“I merely stunned her. She’ll come to in a little while.” 

“Are you alright?” Neville asked, crouching down to be closer to Luna. 

Luna squeezed her eyes shut and clung to Neville’s shirt. He put his arms around her, and Tutela nuzzled against them. 

“It’s alright, Moon. You’re safe.” 

Neville held Luna in his arms as she shook with tears. The more she cried, the tighter he held her. He only looked away from her when he heard more commotion. 

“I just want to make sure she’s alright,” Cedric said to Cho. “I’ll catch you up at dinner.” 

Cho glared at Hermione before leaving. She was replaced shortly by Harry. 

“What happened?” Cedric asked. “She mentioned she’d had problems over the summer, but that was…” 

“New,” Harry said. “All she did last time she tried that was pass out, but that was… what was that?” 

“We should take her to Madame Pomfrey,” Cedric said. “Make sure she’s alright.” 

“Take who were?” Hermione mumbled as she stirred. “What’s…” She sat up and her eyes went wide. “What… what?” 

“Take it easy,” Cedric said. “You… I don’t actually know what you did.” 

Hermione looked around and spotted Luna crying in Neville’s arms. Neville glared back at her and held Luna tighter. 

“Luna! I’m—” 

Luna took one look at Hermione and pressed closer to Neville. Neville took one look at the fear in Luna’s eyes and glared at Hermione. 

“You’ve done enough, Brain,” Neville said. 

“Rest for a minute,” Harry said, “then Alavel and I will take you to Madame Pomfrey.” 

“No!” Hermione shouted. “I don’t—” 

“Yes, you do!” Harry shouted back. “Next time you lose control like that, we might not be so lucky. What if it hadn’t stopped when Alavel knocked you out? What if you had sealed the room? Then what?” 

“I’m fine!” 

“No you’re not!” Harry screamed. “You haven’t been since Rose died! So here’s your choice: Either let us take you to Madame Pomfrey, or I find Sally-Anne and Professor Vector, and you can talk to them!” 

Luna shrank into Neville. He held her head in one hand and rested his own head on hers. 

“It’s alright,” he whispered. “We won’t let anything happen to you.” 

“We can’t tell anyone what we’re doing here!” 

“Why not? It’s not against the rules!” 

“She’ll make it against the rules!” 

“Then we can go to Vector! Between the three of us and Alavel, she’ll listen! It never has to reach Umbridge!” 

“It won’t, because no one’s going to say anything!” Hermione screamed. Before anyone else could say a word, she turned and stormed out of the Room of Requirement. 

“You’re right,” Cedric said. “She hasn’t been well. She seemed fine at first, but it’s like everything’s gone wrong. What happened to her?” 

“She’s trying to be Rose,” Harry said, collapsing on the ground. 

“Rose always did everything on her own,” Luna whispered. “She didn’t need anyone.” 

“What was that?” Cedric asked. 

“Luna said Rose always did everything on her own. Maybe Hermione’s trying to do the same.” 

“Two years ago, Lady Rose had difficulty communicating with her family. She told Lady Brain that she proudly refused help, and then refused to talk about it any further.” 

Neville, Cedric, and Harry wore similar frowns as they all contemplated Alavel’s words. Neville thought back to Hermione’s actions over the past few months. She’d charged headlong into a fight with Umbridge for little reason. Even if Umbridge had delivered a slap in the face to Rose’s memory, she was just another NPC. Neville figured people would be like Melody: conflicted about it, but they’d ask if they really cared. Nearly everyone in Hogwarts knew Rose, and knew who her friends were. It didn’t matter what Umbridge said. 

Hermione had declared war on the Ministry. She’d tossed Ron, the boy who had spent literal days trying to impress her, aside for her pointless war, become obsessive about learning to fight, and had insisted on helping — no, _training_ others for her war. She’d even insisted on “helping” Luna, Rose’s little sister, as if it were only she who could. 

“She’s not my sister,” Luna said, loud enough for everyone else to hear. “She’s supposed to be Brain. I miss Brain.” 

“Me too,” Cedric said. 

“We could use her,” Neville said, “if she weren’t trying so hard to be Rose.” 

“How could we ‘use’ her?” Harry asked. “We can’t stand up to Voldemort, and he’s the only real threat. If he came after any one of us, we’d lose. All we can hope to do is defend ourselves until real help arrives.” 

Harry glanced at Alavel, who nodded at him. 

“Lord Skyeyes is right.” 

Neville opened his mouth to protest, but Alavel cut him off. 

“Lord Toad, you are a formidable combatant—” 

“No arguments here,” Cedric muttered. 

“—but even you cannot take Voldemort on your own.” He turned to Cedric. “My apologies if that name makes you uncomfortable.” 

“It’s only a name,” Cedric said shakily with a crooked smile and a shrug. 

“Of course I can’t,” Neville said. “But she’s still right. We can’t count on the Ministry defending us from him.” 

“You are doing all you can,” Alavel said, then nodded towards Luna. She’d settled down, but she still clung to Neville. “I believe your time and efforts would be better spent on other endeavors.” 

“Are we safe?” Luna asked. She opened her eyes and looked at Alavel. “What if we need Rose?” 

“I can assure you all, so long as Professor Dumbledore remains within Hogwarts, no one is going to come here that you all can’t handle. The only concern right now is the well-being of Lady Brain.” 

“We should talk to Professor Vector,” Cedric said. “She asked me about Hermione the other day. She knows something’s going on.” 

Neville and Harry gave him concerned looks. 

“I didn’t tell her anything about this, just that I was worried about her too. If there’s anyone that cares about Hermione, it’s Professor Vector.” 

“Agreed,” Harry said. 

“We should write to her parents,” Neville said, “and talk to Sally-Anne. She’ll know what to do. I know Hermione said not to get her and Ron involved, but—” 

“ _Dürah_ ,” Harry said, pointing to Cedric. “The Head Boy’s pretty involved, and he’s just fine. I don’t know what Hermione’s problem with Ron and Sally-Anne is, but we could use them. Ron’s the best at summoning, and Sally-Anne could probably beat a squad of Death Eaters just by talking to them.” 

An image of Sally-Anne sitting with a bunch of Death Eaters around a campfire singing songs popped into Neville’s head, and he stifled a laugh. 

“You’re right, we could,” Neville said. 

“I’ll go talk to Professor Vector,” Cedric said. “I know where she is now, so I think it’d be best to find her soon.” 

“Good luck,” Harry said as Cedric ran off. He turned back to Neville and Luna. “Luna, are you alright?” 

Luna looked up at Neville. Neville looked back at Luna. 

“I think so,” she said, smiling. “I… I think so.” 

“Alright.” He turned to Alavel. “Would you mind coming with me to talk to Sally-Anne and Ron?” 

“I’d be delighted, Lord Skyeyes. Although, perhaps you should open with an apology to Lady Princess. You didn’t exactly leave her on good terms.” 

Harry frowned. 

“I suppose not.” He shrugged. “Well, between that and whatever enchantment Hermione put on that parchment I signed, this will be interesting.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I hope my hair doesn’t catch fire or something.” 

He and Alavel laughed as they left the Room of Requirement, leaving Neville and Luna alone. 

They weren’t alone six seconds before Luna started crying again. 

“It’s alright, Little Moon,” Neville said softly, stroking her hair. “It’s alright.” 

“I wanted to try,” Luna whimpered. “I was trying, I just… I get so confused, so I couldn’t.” 

“It’s not your fault. You were trying your best, but Hermione was pushing you too hard. Even Rose knew not to push you too hard.” 

Luna nestled into Neville again, and an idea struck Neville. 

_What were the words? I can’t remember the words. I think I know the tune though._

Neville started humming, quietly at first. His tone shook, but after a few tries, he got the hang of it. 

And so the two of them sat there for a time, with only the sound of Rose’s Lullaby to break the quiet. 


	13. Maybe I'm Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which someone decides that maybe she's gone too far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling's ownership of Harry Potter remains unbroken.

Sally-Anne tapped her pen to her lip, a habit she’d picked up from her mum. She knew something was going on. Harry was far more friendly with everyone than he’d been… ever, Hermione kept talking to herself, and that afternoon, she’d discovered a distinct absence of at least 50 students. Among those missing were Hermione, Harry, Luna, Neville, and Ginny, not to mention most of the rest of Gryffindor. Until she’d passed Ron talking with Professor McGonagall, she’d been making plans to interrogate him about it. 

_Can’t seem to find Lavender either. Could always see if I can get something out of her. That girl can’t keep her mouth shut to save her life._

As Sally-Anne approached the seventh floor, she spotted a group of students she’d believed missing, and made a note about it. 

_Seventh floor. Could be the Room._

Deciding it worth investigating (and feeling a little like Luna for thinking so), Sally-Anne smiled politely when one of the students said hello and continued on towards the Room of Requirement. Sure enough, she spotted more of the missing students coming from that area. 

_Alright, so they’re definitely up to something in the Room of Requirement. If I’m too obvious, I’ll give away that I know, so probably best to stay back for now._

Sally-Anne took a turn towards Gryffindor Tower, hoping she didn’t seem too suspicious. After wandering aimlessly for a few minutes (but doing so as if she had a purpose — that was important so people didn’t realize what she was doing), she started back towards the Room of Requirement. Sure enough, the crowd had dispersed, as if everyone were attempting to avoid drawing suspicion. 

As she drew nearer, she ran into someone that surely had answers, but was in no mood to discuss them. 

“Oh!” Sally-Anne gasped as Hermione pushed past her with a flash of red-brown hair. “Hermione?” 

“Leave me alone!” Hermione screamed. 

“That can’t possibly be good,” Sally-Anne muttered. “Hermione!” 

Sally-Anne walked quickly to reach the end of the corridor and catch up with Hermione, but found she’d disappeared when she reached it. 

“Of course,” Sally-Anne muttered. “Why wouldn’t she just disappear? It’s Hermione. I’m sure Rose did the same thing, I just can’t think of a time she did.” 

The sound of someone clearing his throat drew her attention. Sally-Anne turned to face Harry and Alavel. 

“Harry, just the person with whom I wanted to speak,” Sally-Anne said. 

“I need to talk to you about Hermione,” Harry said. 

“Has it got something to do with why she just screamed at me?” 

“It does. See—” 

Alavel cleared his throat again and gave Harry a significant glance. 

“Oh… right.” Harry blushed and avoided eye contact. “I’m… I’m sorry about yelling at you.” 

Sally-Anne smiled at him. 

_Wow. I wasn’t expecting that for another few weeks. Alavel must be a good influence on him._

“Apology accepted.” 

Harry shifted uncomfortably. 

“There’s… I think Hermione’s losing it.” 

Sally-Anne motioned for them to follow her. “Why do you think that?” 

“Well… it’s… erm…” 

“Is it something to do with why a large portion of the school was missing until a few minutes ago?” 

Harry stumbled over his own feet, and Alavel let out a faint chuckle. 

“I’m guessing it’s some sort of club,” Sally-Anne said. “But not something that the teachers will approve of, but also something Alavel, Cedric, and Angelina approve of, so it can’t be too bad. But something you think I won’t approve of. And Hermione must have organized it, otherwise Ron would be involved.” 

Sally-Anne basked for a moment in Harry’s dumbfounded expression. 

“I’m Sally-Anne Perks, of course I know. I know everything that goes on in school, and the fact that everyone’s remained quiet about it is rather quite astounding.” 

Harry continued to stare at her. 

“As much as I enjoy that face, I’d really appreciate you filling in the details. Especially if it’s gotten bad enough that you had to come find me.” 

“Yeah… erm…” Harry began talking, at times too fast for Sally-Anne to keep up. He only stopped occasionally to itch his face. He explained about their club, horribly named “The Crimson Insurrection” ( _That’s got “Hermione” written all over it._ ), and that they were just teaching students practical defence. 

“Sounds harmless enough, but— Harry!” 

Harry itched at his face. 

“What?” 

“What’s happening to your face?” 

“I don’t know, it just sort of hurts.” 

Before Sally-Anne’s eyes, something appeared on Harry’s face. Every time he itched his skin, marks grew redder, more clear. When she looked closer, she saw distinct letters. 

“‘Snitch’,” Sally-Anne read. “It says ‘snitch’.” Sally-Anne closed her eyes before she screamed. The only sound she allowed out was a low growl. “Hermione.” 

“She had everyone write their names on a sign-up sheet,” Harry explained, wincing as he tried to keep his hands off his face. “She said it’d make it clear if someone tried to rat on us.” 

“I believe the exact word she used was ‘snitch’,” Alavel added. 

“I can’t stop itching,” Harry said, gritting his teeth. 

“You’ve got to,” Sally-Anne said. “I think it’s getting worse the more you do.” She swatted his hand as it went for his face. “Let’s take you to Madame Pomfrey. You can tell me about Hermione on the way, although I think I see the problem.” 

“This isn’t the worst of it,” Alavel said. 

By the time they reached Madame Pomfrey, Sally-Anne knew everything, including that afternoon’s incident. Madame Pomfrey didn’t bother asking about Harry; she whisked him away to one of the beds and forced him to take some potion. The moment he swallowed it, the words disappeared from his face. 

“Not the first time I’ve seen this,” she said. “It was probably those boys again… I’m glad they’re graduating.” 

“Fred and George—” 

“—Will be sorry when I’m through with them,” Sally-Anne said, cutting off Harry. “Won’t they, Mr. Alavel?” 

“I appreciate your attempts to hide the true nature of the situation, La— Ms. Perks, but I regret that we’ve gone a bit past that.” He turned to Madame Pomfrey. “Poppy, I’m afraid this was the result of Ms. Granger, not Fred and George Weasley. I’m only thankful that she didn’t attempt to make her own spell for this.” 

As Harry listened, he kept itching his face. As he did, the word “snitch” reappeared. 

“Unfortunately, I’m afraid she might have,” Madame Pomfrey said. “Because that’s new.” 

Alavel calmly turned to a portrait. “Would you be so kind as to fetch Professor Dumbledore?” 

The man in the frame nodded and left his frame at a quick trot. 

“I was going to talk to him anyway, so I suppose this saves some time. And I’m quite sure he’ll have no problem fixing this.” 

* * *

The next morning, Brain snuck out of her room early to go to the Room of Requirement. After entering Rose’s crafting room, she sat down on one of the tables. 

“I’m fine,” she muttered. “Fine. There’s no need to worry. They certainly can’t find me here.” 

She’d noticed people watching her the last evening. Not just students, but members of staff. The only conclusion was that Umbridge was moving faster than Brain had originally anticipated. 

“It’s fine. It’s fine.” She lit up her hand with a quick wave, and extinguished the light just as quickly. “Perfect control.” 

“Exactly,” a girl with crimson hair said from another table. “Nothing to worry about.” 

“You almost hurt Moon,” another girl with short bushy hair said. This one sat carefully on a chair rather than one of the tables. “And Toad.” 

“He can handle it,” Brain said. “It’s Neville.” 

“Toad,” Rose corrected. 

“Right, Toad. Of course. Thanks, Rose.” 

Rose beamed at her, then her eyes grew wide with excitement. 

“You could probably use that! That thing you did! It’s like _black tentacles_!” 

“That was horrible!” Hermione snapped. “What if you can’t control it?” 

Brain paused and thought about that for a moment. What if she couldn’t control it? What if Moon had gotten hurt? Or Skyeyes, or Cedric? Toad was fine, and probably deserved it, but Moon didn’t. She was helpless, just like Hermione had been. But Brain wasn’t; Brain was strong and powerful, like Rose. She wasn’t afraid of anything. 

“They’ll be fine!” Rose exclaimed. “Just like you were, remember? I threw worse at you. I threw worse at all of them!” 

Brain couldn’t help but agree with Rose. Moon, Toad, and Skyeyes had all undergone worse than that spell with Rose. Toad especially, so of course he’d be fine. Brain was just doing her part to toughen them up. They’d thank her for it later. 

“They’ll thank me later,” Brain said. “When they remember that we’re at war, they’ll thank me later.” 

“Are you at war?” Hermione asked. “Quirrell wasn’t great, but he didn’t need all this.” 

“Yes, he did!” Rose shot back. “You didn’t notice because I handled it on my own. You weren’t ready for it!” 

“Just like the others,” Brain said. “Like Ron. It was good that I broke it off with him, because—” 

“ _Grahk d’ka!_ ” Hermione shouted. “After everything he did, you just tossed him aside!” 

“I didn’t ask him to do anything!” 

“How many times did you think about him while you were gone?” Hermione asked. “Because it felt like every day to me!” 

“I… I… Shut up! It’s better this way!” 

“How exactly is this better? All your friends are either mad at you or scared of you.” 

“They don’t have to like her,” Rose said. “You didn’t always like me, but I still kept you all safe. That’s the point. They don’t have to like her for her to protect them.” 

All Hermione could do was glare at Rose. 

“Exactly,” Brain said. “Without Rose, I’m all they’ve got. It was just like Rose said, no one else will.” 

“That’s what you said before you rushed in to fight Death Eaters! What happened to learning your lesson?” 

“These aren’t Death Eaters, this is one mad _jato_. It’s only a matter of time before she comes after me and my friends, and I’ve got to be ready! You saw the way everyone’s looking at me! She’s already started! If I don’t prepare them, if I can’t fight back, nothing’s going to change! She’ll just waltz right through and take them, just like Aurora did to the Exalted! If Rose hadn’t been there, they’d have died!” 

Brain listened to her words echo around the room, glaring all the while at Hermione. It was hard to believe that she’d been that just a few months ago. So weak, frail, naive and vulnerable. Just like her friends. 

“I’m fine,” Brain said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get to class.” 

She hopped off the table and left the Room of Requirement. She pushed past Sally-Anne on her way out, ducking around a shield before it could restrain her. 

“You’ve got to talk to me some time!” 

“Not gonna happen, Princess!” 

* * *

A familiar scene had begun in Albus’s office Sunday afternoon. Starting, as far as he could tell, with Cedric Diggory informing Septima that Hermione Granger was having problems on Wednesday, word had moved up the chain of command to Albus himself. Of course, he’d learned of everything earlier that week after Alavel had told him, but it helped that there were additional recollections. The proof of Harry’s face had also been helpful, even if it had been relatively easy for Albus to fix. 

As with every meeting in his office to discuss a student’s future, he had his heads of house with him. Because it was Hermione Granger, Septima insisted on being present. Albus figured it was fair; she knew Hermione better than any other member of staff. 

The sixth and final member of his staff was there as the resident expert on Rose Peta-Lorrum. Alavel stood to his right, in almost the exact same spot Rose had stood during the last staff meeting she’d attended, with almost the exact same expression on his face. Unlike Rose, however, Albus was certain Alavel wouldn’t fall asleep. 

“I blame Peta-Lorrum,” Minerva snapped. She glanced at Alavel. “No offense.” 

“I agree that My Lady Rose was not always the best influence on Lady Brain,” Alavel said. “Although until recently, I didn’t think it a problem.” 

“What happened to her?” Filius asked. “She seemed fine the first few days she was back. Apart from ignoring her wand, of course. Could this be some abnormal side effect of her magic?” 

“Her friend died,” Pomona said with a sympathetic look. “That’s bound to have an awful effect on anyone, especially someone who went through the trauma she did. Perhaps in her mind, she believes this all must be done.” 

“Lord Skyeyes, Lady Princess, Lord Toad, and I all believe she is attempting to become My Lady Rose.” 

“That would explain her hair,” Severus said. 

“It has been off,” Minerva said. “I think it’s turning red.” 

“I thought it was just the light she was in,” Pomona said. 

“That still doesn’t explain her complexion,” Severus muttered. 

“What about Lady Brain’s complexion?” 

All eyes turned towards Severus, who’d seen Hermione no more than 15 minutes ago. 

Severus glowered back at them, evidently less interested in sharing than he was a moment ago. 

“She was more pale than normal.” 

“And I doubt she’s aware of it,” Alavel said. “We need to talk some sense into her before long.” 

“Are we sure that’s possible?” Severus asked. “It never was with Peta-Lorrum.” 

“My Lady Rose could be sensible at times.” 

All heads turned to stare at Alavel with varying levels of incredulity. 

“I never said there were many of them, but she had her moments.” 

“Hermione’s far more sensible than that girl ever was,” Septima snapped. “She’s just having difficulty adjusting.” 

Albus raised an eyebrow for a moment. 

“Septima, I understand your feelings for her,” Albus said calmly, “but she endangered Ms. Lovegood’s life, and over the past few days, none of us have seen any signs of remorse. If anything, she seems to have drawn inward.” 

“Along with repeated attempts by Lady Princess, many of us have tried talking to her,” Alavel said. “Apart from Severus, who possesses specific knowledge she desires, none of us have been successful in that endeavor.” 

“Does anyone know why?” Pomona asked. “Why she’s been like this?” 

Albus smiled inwardly at the anticipated question. 

“I only have a guess,” Alavel said. “Unfortunately, as I said, no one’s been able to talk to her, so I can’t be sure.” 

“So spit it out,” Septima snapped. 

“Lady Brain believes herself and her friends to be under fire from the Ministry.” 

“They are,” Minerva said. “If you hear what that b—” 

“Minerva!” Albus snapped. 

Minerva frowned, but continued with (relatively) kinder words. “That… _woman_ … was saying about Peta-Lorrum and Potter. Sure, Peta-Lorrum was mad, but she outright called Potter a liar, as she does with anyone that stands with him.” She turned her glare towards Alavel. “Well?” 

“What?” 

“Not going to defend Peta-Lorrum? No ‘she was only pretending to be mad’?” 

“My Lady Rose was mad.” 

Alavel’s comment even caught Albus off guard. It was true, at least in some regard, but to hear Alavel say it seemed odd. Rose had built Alavel and Taltria with the loyalty of the most devoted of Hufflepuffs. Hearing him say anything remotely offensive about Rose herself could only be described as shocking. 

“Finally someone admits it,” Severus said. 

“But by her world’s standards, it wasn’t as bad. De’rok is a world ravaged by constant war, forcing people to live in constant fear. Only the strongest survive, creating a hostile world. Add to that everything she’s been through, all the tragedy that’s befallen her, and it created a mad woman who tried to escape in the form of a child. That fear and madness drove her to become more powerful, giving her a sense of control over her world. I believe Lady Brain has confused the two: she believes that My Lady Rose’s madness and strength were the same thing, but in fact, one caused the other. She is allowing herself to become carried away, likely under the belief that it will make her stronger to be exactly like My Lady Rose.” 

Albus and his staff pondered Alavel’s words for a time. He didn’t want to say anything and interrupt, nor did he know what to say. An apology seemed appropriate, but Rose was no longer there to hear it. He’d always known she wasn’t all there, but he’d never truly understood why. 

“I for one feel a little worse about considering expelling Peta-Lorrum every year,” Filius said. “Mad or not, I think both young… er… both of them could use our help.” 

“Even though it’s too late for Ms. Peta-Lorrum,” Pomona said, “I believe we still have time to help Ms. Granger. Alavel is there any way we can convince her?” 

“She’s not mad!” Septima snapped. “Peta-Lorrum was, but Hermione isn’t!” 

“Ignoring the problem will only make it worse,” Albus and Alavel said. 

_Knowing Rose, that’s probably not entirely a coincidence,_ Albus thought, knowing that Rose had crafted Alavel’s personality herself. 

“The matter stands,” Albus said. “Hermione put another student in danger, and her mental state continues to deteriorate. If it is as Alavel has said, she’s becoming like Rose, albeit a rather poor copy. I agree that this has something to do with her incidents last year. Having suffered through the Cruciatus Curse, she’s felt a fear that few of us can hope to understand. With the one person that saved her from that gone, that fear has likely returned.” He met Septima’s gaze and addressed the indignation in it. “Fear can do all manner of horrible things to a person, make them believe something that no sound person would even consider. I believe Alavel is correct; Hermione is trying to become Rose, and has confused her madness and strength in doing so.” 

“Of course it’s her fault,” Septima grumbled. “She’s never been anything but trouble to Hermione.” 

“That girl,” Severus said, “as you put it, saved Granger from a troll.” 

Albus contained his surprise that it was Severus of all people defending Rose. He was pleased to hear it, but, unlike Pomona and Minerva, gave no reaction. 

“So how do we change her mind?” Minerva asked. “It won’t do any good to confront her head on.” 

Albus turned to the man with all the answers. He was a little glad that, for once, it wasn’t himself. Rose was right about one thing: being the person with the plan was too much pressure. 

“While Lady Brain likely won’t listen to any of us, I believe I know a few who can make her listen.” 

* * *

Brain strode through the corridor, enjoying the quiet. When people talked, it was harder to hear Rose. 

“They’re so inconsiderate. Can’t they just let a girl go mad in peace?” 

“I know, right?” Rose replied, skipping through the corridor beside her. “But remember, deny everything. If people think you’re actually mad, they won’t be your friend. Wait, never mind, just don’t give answers. Answer no one when they ask.” 

Brain rounded a corner and bumped straight into Toad. 

“Toad,” she said, moving around him. 

To her frustration, he moved to block her. 

“Do you really want to do this now?” she asked. 

“Yes,” another voice said, “we really do.” 

She turned and glared at Princess, who’d somehow managed to sneak up behind her. 

“This wouldn’t happen if you had _blindsight_ ,” Rose said. “You should work on that.” 

“Leave me alone!” 

“That’s not an option anymore,” Toad said. “You’ve gone too far.” 

“Please, we’re just doing this for your own good.” 

“That’s what Umbridge keeps saying!” Brain’s eyes grew wide as she realized the truth. “She’s gotten to you, hasn’t she? She’s turned you both!” 

“Do you really think she convinced _me_ that Rose was a liar?” Toad asked. “Me? I was in love with Rose for years.” 

“Then she’s got something on you,” Brain said, looking for the exits. If it came to it, she could easily distract them long enough to get away. 

“So that’s it?” Princess asked. “You’re going to toss us aside too? Just like Ron? Like Luna?” 

“I didn’t toss anyone aside!” 

“You’ve turned on people who used to be your friends,” Toad said. “That’s exactly what the Exalted did to Shadow!” 

Brain saw Rose flinch, then Hermione joined them in the corridor. It wasn’t true; she wasn’t like them. 

“I’m not like them, I’m like Rose!” 

“Rose was there for Shadow when she needed someone,” Toad said. “You’ve done the opposite!” 

“We all need you now, Hermione,” Princess said. “We don’t need Rose, we need you!” 

“Of course we need Rose! Who else is going to keep us safe?” 

“How are you supposed to keep us safe if we’re all afraid of you? If everyone’s afraid of you, all they’ll do is run away.” 

Hermione nodded her head, but Brain refused to give in. 

“It’s not my fault they’re afraid!” 

“Ha!” Rose exclaimed. 

“So it’s alright that you’ve gone mad?” Princess asked. “That doesn’t matter to you at all?” 

“Of course not! I’m like Rose!” 

“You’re like Rose,” Toad said, “or you _are_ Rose?” 

Brain spun around to face him. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Hermione.” 

Brain turned back to Princess and found her holding a mirror. 

“Look at yourself.” 

For the first time in weeks, Brain looked into a mirror. She didn’t recognize the person staring back at her. The young woman in the mirror had brown-red hair and pale skin. Looking closer, she saw blue-green eyes. 

Hermione held a gloved hand to her face and touched her skin. 

“What?” 

“Being like Rose doesn’t make you strong,” Neville said. “Hard work and practice makes you strong.” 

“We don’t need Rose,” Sally-Anne added. “All we need now is you. Not some half-mad girl trying to be something she’s not.” 

Hermione felt a tear roll down her cheek, then looked to where Rose had been a second ago. There was no one; just the empty corridor with her, Neville, and Sally-Anne. 

“But what about Umbridge?” she asked, turning back to her friends. 

“If Umbridge is going to come for us, it won’t be head on,” Neville said. 

“And anyone outside,” a new voice said, “isn’t going to come for you.” 

Professor Dumbledore walked around the corner and joined them. Not far from him were Taltria, Alavel, Harry, and Luna. 

“Brain,” Luna said, a smile forming on her lips. “You’re back.” 

The weight of what she’d done in the CI meeting hit her. 

“Oh my God… Luna, I’m—” 

Hermione tried to approach Luna, but Luna took a step back, moving behind Neville. Her smile never faltered, but her eyes changed. When Hermione looked into them, she saw something she’d seen that day, but, in her selfishness, had dismissed: fear. 

Neville himself flexed the fingers on his left hand and crouched just a little, his gazed fixed on her. 

“I…” She looked at the faces of her friends and teacher, more tears falling from her eyes. “I think there might be something wrong with me.” 

“Not to fret,” Professor Dumbledore said. “We happen to have something here at Hogwarts just for such an occasion. Don’t worry; I hear they’ve even fixed the wall from the time a basilisk broke in.” 

Hermione let out an involuntary laugh. 

“I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice catching. “All of you… it feels like a bad dream.” 

“There’s no need to discuss it any further,” Alavel said. “Right now, Lady Brain, you only need some rest.” 

“Agreed,” Sally-Anne said. “Just some rest.” 

Hermione nodded absently, then caught a glimpse of crimson hair out of the corner of her eye. 

“Sure. Just… don’t call me ‘Brain’ for a little bit.” 

Guided by her friends, Hermione made her way down to the Hospital Wing, where a bed was waiting for her. For a moment, she thought of a time long ago when Rose had brought her to the Room of Requirement and made her rest. She looked back at Sally-Anne and smiled. 

_Maybe I’m not alone._


	14. Why Would You Want to Crush Harry?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sally-Anne attempts to be friends with everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling can crush Harry if she wants to.

Hermione sat in the Hospital Wing and stared into space. Last time she’d been to the Hospital Wing, at least a dozen people had gone to visit her. In the past day, only Alavel had been there to check on her. 

_They’re afraid of me. Just like Luna._

So there she sat, alone, a blanket over her legs, which she’d drawn into her chest. 

“I suppose I’ve got no one to blame but myself,” she muttered. 

“What was that, Dear?” Madame Pomfrey asked. 

“Nothing. Just talking to mys— thinking aloud.” 

“That’s a little more like you.” 

Sally-Anne walked into the Hospital Wing. She smiled at Hermione, then sat in the bed beside her. 

“You’re not afraid of me?” Hermione asked. 

“Terrified, but I don’t think you’ll hurt me on purpose.” 

“I’m glad all that work Rose did on your Diplomacy Modifier was worth it.” 

“Would you rather me lie?” 

Hermione sighed, then shook her head. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Like the past few months have been one long nightmare.” Hermione looked away. “And it hasn’t gotten any better. Rose is still gone.” 

Sally-Anne moved to Hermione’s bed. 

“Hermione, would you please look at me?” 

“Why? My face is still wrong.” 

“Only if that’s the way you choose to think about it.” 

Hermione sighed again, then glared at Sally-Anne. 

“Why are you here?” 

“Because I’m worried about you. We all are.” 

For a moment, Hermione saw Ron’s face, just the way he’d looked in the library. She saw his face, full of contempt, and knew that it was all her fault. 

“Even Ron.” 

Hermione narrowed her eyes. 

“You’re lying.” 

“I hate lying.” 

Hermione smirked. “You didn’t deny it.” 

Sally-Anne’s face took on a stern look, reminding her of Professor McGonagall. “Hermione, please stop playing games. We’re all worried about you, and yes, they’re all afraid of you, apart from Neville, who won’t leave Luna’s side apart from class, and can’t get to her fast enough after class. Harry doesn’t want to include you in his club anymore, because he doesn’t want to risk you hurting someone. I’m not going to take it easy on you, because I know you can take it: You’ve made a mess of things this time. What are you going to do about it?” 

Hermione sat and stared at Sally-Anne, trying to come up with an answer. No matter how hard she tried, nothing came to mind. 

“I could’ve killed Luna,” she said at last. “I should probably stay here for everyone’s safety.” 

“Do you really want to stay here?” 

“Of course not! But what else can I do?” 

Sally-Anne gave her a gentle smile. 

“Just worry about getting better. And remember that you don’t need to get better right away. Professor Umbridge isn’t out to get you, she’s just someone the Ministry sent. Sure, the Minister should probably trust Professor Dumbledore more, but he’s probably just scared. If He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named really did come back, it’d be terrifying. I think he just doesn’t want to deal with that possibility.” 

“So we should just—” 

“Let the adults handle it, please. You’re not Rose, and no one’s asking you to handle it. I know you feel powerless; I’ve felt it too. But this isn’t the way to fix that.” 

Hermione couldn’t get Ron’s face out of her head, but something inside her said it was okay. 

“I… I…” Tears rolled down her face. “I’m sorry about what I did to Ron.” 

“There, now,” Sally-Anne said. “That’s more like it. Worry about normal problems. We can all help with those.” 

Hermione scowled at Sally-Anne. 

“I’ve missed that look. Don’t go back to Ron, though; that’s done. Besides, you’ve got to work on yourself before you’re ready to be with someone again.” 

Hermione nodded. She hated admitting it, but Sally-Anne was right. She was in no shape to burden someone else with her problems. 

“Just stay here,” Sally-Anne said. “Rest up, and you’ll feel better in no time.” 

She patted Hermione’s knees, then stood up. “I’ll tell Professor Vector to come by and visit. So long as you take it easy, I’m sure you two will find plenty to talk about.” 

“Thanks, Princess.” 

“You’re welcome, Brain.” 

* * *

On her way out of the Hospital Wing, Sally-Anne bumped into a welcomed face. 

“Good afternoon, Cedric,” Sally-Anne said. 

“Hey, Sally-Anne. Is Hermione…” He motioned down the corridor towards the Hospital Wing. 

“She’s awake, and apart from a load of self-pity, she’s fine.” Sally-Anne smiled. “I’m sure she’ll be quite pleased to see you.” 

Cedric smiled back. “That’s brilliant. I could use some good news today.” 

Sally-Anne frowned. 

_That can’t be good._

“What happened?” 

Cedric shrugged. “Nothing to worry about. Just… Cho and I broke up, that’s all. Like I said, nothing to worry you about.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that.” 

Cedric shook his head, looking a little forlorn. “It was going to happen eventually. With everything going on with Hermione, I’ve got my attention more on her than normal, and Cho keeps getting jealous of her.” 

“Some people can’t understand that concern isn’t the same as romantic interest, I suppose,” Sally-Anne said, mentally filing the information away for later. 

“Tell me about it.” 

“I’ve got to be off,” Sally-Anne said, not wanting to get more into Cedric’s personal life than she had too. She worried the temptation to use anything more she found out would be too great. “Thank you for visiting Hermione. I’m sure seeing you will cheer her up. Just… make sure she understands that your concern is only concern.” 

Cedric nodded understandingly. “I will. See you later.” 

“See you.” 

Sally-Anne started off, then remembered a question she’d been harboring for weeks. 

“My apologies, but there’s something I need to ask you.” 

Cedric chuckled, then turned around. “What is it?” 

“How’s Ellie doing?” 

The smile faded from Cedric’s face. “Not well. She sort of ignores people. Doesn’t try to reach out to anyone. She’s always been rather attached to Max, but lately he says she’s just… distant.” 

Sally-Anne frowned, feeling a slight pang of guilt over the whole thing. Malfoy had been after her, and Harry and Ellie had been caught in the crossfire. 

“Thank you. Max never seems to want to talk about her. I was starting to worry.” 

“We all are.” 

One look at Cedric’s face told Sally-Anne that he both wanted to stop talking about Ellie and start moving towards Hermione. 

“That’s all, I promise. Enjoy your day.” 

Sally-Anne smiled again, then allowed Cedric to be on his way. A minute passed before another important piece of information hit her. 

“Oh no,” she said. “Harry!” 

She walked as quickly as she could without running or breaking her posture. Fortunately, she ran into the one person that would understand her entire argument. 

“Ms. Perks, it looks like you’re rather close to breaking the ‘no running’ rule,” Alavel said. “Care to explain why?” 

“Cedric just broke up with Cho because she was jealous that he was spending so much time worrying about Hermione and maybe not as much about her, and knowing people that get jealous they tend to want to make people jealous back, so I’m trying to reach Harry before Cho does because I don’t think he’s entirely over her, and she’ll be looking for an easy target to ask out and make Cedric jealous, and I don’t want her using Harry like that.” 

“Ms. Perks, breathe.” 

Sally-Anne sucked in as much air as she could as soon as she finished talking. She then took a moment to calm herself down before hyperventilating. 

“Thank you, Alavel.” 

“You’re welcome. Now, supper will begin soon, and Mr. Potter sits at the Gryffindor table these days. In all likelihood, you’ll reach him before Ms. Chang does. I don’t think you need to worry quite as much as you are. Even if Ms. Chang reaches Mr. Potter before us, I doubt he’ll so easily succumb to her attempts to use him.” 

“I hope so.” 

* * *

“Harry!” 

Harry turned and smiled when he saw Cho approaching him. She smiled back at him with the same look she’d had just before Harry had tried getting her into Snape’s lessons. His heart beat faster the closer she got. 

“H-hey, Cho. What’s… erm… hi!” 

She laughed at his attempts to talk. 

“How’re you doing?” Harry finally managed. 

“Not good.” 

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Harry watched the smile fade from her face, then Cho burst into tears. 

“Cedric and I broke up!” 

Harry didn’t know what to feel. At first, he was excited that Cho was available, then upset that she was upset. He chose to act on the feelings of upset, because he figured Alavel would’ve preferred that. 

“I’m sorry.” 

He took a few steps closer to Cho. He started to move his arms in an awkward attempt to hug her, but she flung herself into his arms before he could get them fully raised. 

“I’m really, really sorry.” 

They stood together in the corridor for a minute before Harry spoke up again. 

“Cho, if… if it’s alright with you… why don’t… why don’t we go to Hogsmeade on Sunday?” 

Cho’s sobs died down, and she looked up at Harry. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah. To… to help take your mind off things.” 

“I’d love that.” She leaned up, kissed him on the cheek, then walked off. “I’ll see you then.” 

“If not sooner!” Harry called back. 

His run-in with Cho left him in high spirits up until he sat down for dinner. 

“Harry, there you are,” Sally-Anne said. “I wanted to warn you, Cedric and Cho broke up, so—” 

“I know,” Harry said, making no attempt to hide his excitement. “Cho told me.” 

Sally-Anne’s smile visibly sank. “Oh. I see.” 

“What?” 

“Why were you talking to Cho?” 

“What’s it matter to you?” 

Sally-Anne closed her eyes for a second and took a breath. “That’s not what I meant. Is everything alright?” 

“Better than that, me and her are going to Hogsmeade this weekend.” Harry had to fight to keep his voice down, even though they were masked by _doublespeak_. It’d become habit with he and his friends to activate it when they spoke. He never forgot, even as excited as he was. 

“Oh.” 

Once again, Sally-Anne was visibly bothered by the news. Why couldn’t she just be happy for him for once? 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Cho broke up with Cedric because she was jealous of all the attention he was paying Hermione. I’m worried she asked you out to make Cedric jealous.” 

“She didn’t ask me out, I asked her. I can do it without your help.” 

“I know that, I just… I don’t want you to get hurt, that’s all.” 

“Cho’s not going to hurt me,” Harry snapped. “That’s your job, isn’t it?” 

He regretted the words the moment he said them, but he refused to back down. Instead, Harry stood up and moved down to where Ron was sitting with Lavender and Parvati. He tried to put the conversation with Sally-Anne out of his mind, and instead chose to focus on Cho. Even then, his biggest question still lurked in his mind, and he stole a glance at the Hufflepuff table. 

Sure enough, Ellie was sitting alone, picking at some food. Conversations were going on around her, but she wasn’t part of them. Part of him wanted to go talk to her, but he didn’t know if he could trust her anymore. He was starting to think he couldn’t trust Sally-Anne either, and he didn’t trust Hermione around students at all. 

_Princess could be right about whats-her-name, you know._

It disturbed Harry that he heard Rose’s voice in his head sometimes, but she had a point. What if Sally-Anne was right about Cho? Could he trust her? 

All Harry knew was that he was running out of people he could trust. He glanced up at the teachers’ table where Alavel sat next to Hagrid. The two spoke cheerfully together, even evoking the occasional laugh. He smiled at Alavel, who returned his smile just for a second. 

_At least I can trust Alavel._

Harry tuned back into the conversation Ron was having with the girls. It sounded like a dramatic version of their last Quidditch match from a few weeks ago. Harry joined in where he could, putting his concerns about everyone else in the back of his mind. 

* * *

Luna woke up and found Tutela next to her. 

“I’m okay,” she whispered. “It… it was just a nightmare.” 

_I will trap you in the worst of your dreams._

Neville’s voice from her dreams sent shivers down her spine. She shook her head, trying to force the dream away. 

<Toad’s nice, right?>

<Nicer than anyone you’ve met.>

_You will never again awaken, never know a life of happiness._

<I think there’s a mean Neville.>

<It was just a dream, Moon. One of the other Lunas can worry about it.>

Luna washed and dressed. Then she worked on her hair. She tried to think how Toad always liked it. 

_She will die screaming and alone, abandoned by the friend who swore to protect her._

After she’d dropped her brush three times, Tutela hopped into her lap and curled up. Calmed by the presence of her guardian, she eventually made it through fixing her hair. 

Even as she walked down to breakfast, she couldn’t shake the memory. Why was one of the Nevilles so mean? 

“Luna, are you alright?” Toad asked at breakfast. 

“I’m okay.” Even she didn’t believe her smile. 

“Bad dream?” he asked. 

Luna paused for a moment, decided it wasn’t a question meant to trick her, then nodded. 

_It’s alright. It’s only a dream._

Luna looked at Toad’s face, but all she could see was the lifeless gaze of the Neville from her dream. She heard his voice, speaking slowly and menacingly. 

“I think I’ll take a walk outside today,” she said. 

“That sounds fun. When were you planning on going?” 

“Just me,” Luna said. “I don’t know when.” 

After breakfast, Luna walked outside to where she knew no one went. It was a peaceful morning as she walked along the vegetable patch. Although no snow had fallen yet, there was a chill in the air. It sent shivers through her body, but her ring kept her comfortable. When she reached her destination, she touched the pendant her sister had given her in May. It saddened her a little to think that it was the last thing she’d gotten from Rose. 

Luna walked over and sat down in the shade of the Whomping Willow. 

“ _Salutations._ ” 

“ _Ah, good morning to you, Luna Lovegood. What a fine morning it is, wouldn’t you say?_ ” 

Luna thought back to her dream and frowned as she shifted in place. “ _Not really. I had a bad dream._ ” 

“ _I’m so terribly sorry to hear that. Would you care to talk about it?_ ” 

“ _Not really. I just wanted to go somewhere where no one else would be._ ” 

“ _Please, stay as long as you like. If you feel the desire for some invigorating conversation, don’t hesitate to let me know. As always, I merely request that you refrain from touching me or entering my personal space._ ” 

Luna nodded, knowing how much the Whomping Willow hated being touched. She’d watched unfortunate birds fly into the Willow, only to be thrown back out. It kept other students away, so she didn’t mind. She just liked the opportunity to be alone. 

* * *

Sally-Anne walked into a familiar pink room the following day and found Professor Umbridge waiting for her. It concerned her that she’d been summoned to her office, especially given the events of the past several days. Still, it also could’ve been completely innocent, so she chose to keep a positive attitude. 

“Ms. Perks, right on schedule.” Umbridge motioned to the seat in front of her desk. “Please, take a seat.” 

Sally-Anne did as she was told, keeping her posture straight and a neutral expression on her face. 

Umbridge slid a cup and saucer closer to her. “Would you care for some tea?” 

Sally-Anne’s fist instinct was to accept, but she remembered teachings from both her mother and Rose. 

_Always have someone check for poison before accepting a drink from anyone._ Detect poison _is a low-level spell, so someone should have it on hand._

_If you don’t see it poured, assume it’s drugged. Even if they’re having the same thing, you can’t know if they put something in yours and not theirs._

“I haven’t had much of an appetite all day, I’m afraid,” Sally-Anne said as politely as she could manage. “That’s very kind of you to offer, though.” 

Umbridge eyed her for a moment, which Sally-Anne took to study the look. Smile small, but not a frown, eyes focused, head tilted just a little. What Sally-Anne was looking at was a practiced look. 

“Suite yourself,” Umbridge said, withdrawing the saucer. “I heard there was an incident involving one of your friends, although I haven’t received details yet. Would you happen to know anything about it?” 

As much as Sally-Anne didn’t agree with what her friends were doing and really wanted them to stop, she got a bad feeling about telling Umbridge. Specifically, the fact that Professor Dumbledore hadn’t seen fit to inform Umbridge. Further, getting Umbridge involved would almost certainly set off Hermione, and that was the last thing any of them wanted. 

“Has someone mentioned to you the incident last year at the World Cup?” Sally-Anne asked. 

“Is it important?” 

“To this, yes. I’m sure you’re aware that there were Death Eaters there?” 

“Why, that’s preposterous,” Umbridge scoffed. “I’d heard of the reports, but they were simply troubled individuals dressed as Death Eaters.” 

Sally-Anne couldn’t deny her claim; in fact, it seemed more than likely that the people at the World Cup had just been imitators, not old followers proclaiming Voldemort’s coming rise to power. At least, she hoped they weren’t. If they had been, that implied that the plan had been secured from the very beginning. 

“Whatever they were, one of them used the Cruciatus Curse on my friend Hermione. She’s still not quite right, that’s all. She had a panic attack, but now Madame Pomfrey’s got her secured in the Hospital Wing, and only a few of us are allowed to visit her.” 

Umbridge sipped her own tea, retaining the neutral look. “I see. And no one saw fit to inform me of this?” 

“I don’t know what to tell you, Professor. I’m only a prefect, I don’t decide who tells you what, apart from myself, of course.” 

Umbridge took another sip of her tea, then placed her cup on its own saucer. “Thank you for telling me all this.” 

“Will that be all?” 

“One last thing. You’ve grown understandably fond of the staff here, and with Professor Dumbledore’s recent claims of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named returning to power, no one would blame you for believing him. After all, you’ve grown accustomed to them telling you the facts.” 

Sally-Anne was certain she knew where Umbridge was leading her, but she listened nonetheless. 

“I assure you I am not your enemy, despite what some may think.” 

“I know. The Ministry’s just trying to do what’s right.” 

Umbridge smiled at her. 

“What a bright girl you are.” 

“I wouldn’t call myself bright, but certainly more mature than my peers.” 

“Quite.” 

“And even though I trust Harry — we are friends, of course — I understand you can’t act on anything he’s said. While his word is enough for Professor Dumbledore, it can’t be enough for the Ministry. He’s just one person. I think calling him a liar in class might’ve been a little much, but he and Professor Dumbledore shouldn’t be pushing so hard.” 

While Sally-Anne spoke, Umbridge picked up her cup and took another sip of tea. She placed it down when Sally-Anne finished, eyeing her with a look Sally-Anne didn’t recognize. It seemed a cross between suspicion and interest. 

“They’re making claims without proof,” Umbridge said. “The Ministry is simply keeping order. If people were all so gullible, there would be mass panic. One boy’s hurt feelings are a small price to pay for order, wouldn’t you agree?” 

Sally-Anne frowned. Harry was her best friend; she’d had a crush him for years. But even then, looking at the bigger picture, even if Voldemort was still alive, it would surely be easier for the Ministry to handle him without mass panic. People believed all sorts of myths about him; with hysteria to exaggerate the danger, allowing people to believe he’d returned would only cause problems. 

“I suppose that makes sense,” Sally-Anne said slowly. “Harry’s had lots of people telling him he’s wrong about this or that. If I can get him to ease up about this one, would you mind not calling him a liar in front of everyone again?” 

Without taking her eyes off Sally-Anne, Umbridge took another sip of tea. 

“I see now why McGonagall chose you to be a prefect.” She gave a small hum of thought. “I suppose your request is reasonable. I shall consider it.” 

Sally-Anne smiled and nodded. 

“I appreciate that. Will that be all?” 

“For now.” Umbridge drew a black quill from a drawer and placed it on her desk. “I look forward to meeting with you again, Ms. Perks. You’ve certainly given me a good start to my day.” 

“I’m glad I could be of assistance.” 

Sally-Anne stood up and straightened her dress. 

“Please send the next person in when you see them.” 

Sally-Anne nodded and left Umbridge’s office. After looking around, she spotted the next person. 

“Luna?” 

Luna looked up at Sally-Anne from her spot on the floor. 

“Salutations, Princess.” 

“Neville’s been worried sick about you,” Sally-Anne said. “He says he’s hardly spoken to you in days.” 

A look crossed Luna’s face that made her look an awful lot like a kicked puppy. “Oh. I guess I haven’t.” 

Sally-Anne crouched down next to her and rested a hand on Luna’s shoulder. “Whatever it is, he’d want you to talk to him about it.” Whispering, she added, “I think he’s rather keen on you.” 

Luna blushed, something Sally-Anne was certain she’d never seen Luna do. 

“You think?” 

“I do. Find him after you talk to Professor Umbridge. The two of you can sort it out together.” 

Luna smiled sheepishly, another expression with which Sally-Anne was unfamiliar from Luna. 

“And if you fancy him, ask him out. You’ll regret not asking him more; trust me, I know.” 

“I suppose you would.” 

Sally-Anne was pleased that she didn’t have to explain something to Luna, although she had a feeling that she and Luna were thinking of two completely different things. 

“Anyway, Professor Umbridge is ready for you. Try not to get into too much trouble, okay?” 

Luna responded with a silent grin. 

_She’s gonna get into trouble,_ Sally-Anne thought as she walked away. 

* * *

At dinner, there was still no sign of Luna. Neville sighed. He wanted to find her and talk to her, but if she needed space for some reason, he didn’t want to bother her. Acting mostly on instinct, he sat down at the Ravenclaw table. 

“Lovegood’s not here,” Roger said through a mouthful of food. “Think she’s in her room or something.” 

“I noticed,” Neville said. “Is it alright if I sit here anyway?” 

“Sure! Most of us are too afraid of you to kick you out!” 

Neville couldn’t help but laugh. Rose had enjoyed the same privileges for the same reasons. 

“Thanks, I think.” 

Neville spotted Melody a few seats down from him and decided to move closer. 

“Melody, have you seen Luna?” 

Melody shook her head. 

“Not since this morning. She said she had to meet with Professor Umbridge about something.” 

Neville frowned as a bad feeling swept over him. He turned his head slowly, hoping to avoid drawing suspicion, to the teachers’ table. Sure enough, Umbridge was not in her seat. 

“When did you last see her?” he asked calmly, his eyes still fixed on the teachers’ table. 

“This morning.” Melody squeezed her eyes shut. “I can’t think when. I’m sorry!” 

Neville turned back to her and smiled. “There’s no need to apologize. I’ll see what I can find out.” 

With that, Neville took off from dinner and headed straight for Umbridge’s office. He didn’t think it’d do any good, but if Moon were in trouble, he was determined to be there for her. 


	15. Sharing Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Neville and Luna share with one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling never needs to share Harry Potter.

Neville raced through the hallways. It’d always been a personal rule of his that he wouldn’t use the Sword of Gryffindor in the corridors where someone could get hurt, but with everyone at dinner, he took a chance and used it and his rope to expedite his journey. Even with several stretches of corridor where his feet didn’t touch the ground, he pushed himself harder. He had to reach Luna before she left Umbridge’s office. If he didn’t, he didn’t know when he’d see her again. Knowing her, seeing how shaken up she’d been about Hermione, and whatever it was that had started bothering her between then and now, she’d withdraw in on herself, and he didn’t know what she’d do. He’d already lost one friend; he wasn’t going to lose another. 

_Toad?_

_Rose?_

_Did you ever think she might not be there? That she might be hiding somewhere?_

_She’s there. I know she is._

_How?_

_Umbridge is gone too. If Luna’s anywhere, she’s with Umbridge._

_What if Moon already left, and Umbridge is with another student?_

_No, she’s with Moon. I know it._

_Again: how?_

_I just do!_

_No, you don’t. You’re getting emotional. Wanna know what happened last time I got emotional?_

_Leave the lecturing to Alavel, he’s better at it._

Internal Rose didn’t say anything, but he could feel her sticking her tongue out at him. As much as he admired Rose for having the confidence to do her own thing, it bothered him sometimes when she acted too much like a child. 

Neville’s speed carried him past Umbridge’s office, but he tumbled and used the sword to slow himself down. When he returned to the door, he found it closed. Neville sat down in front of it, taking a minute to catch his breath. 

Then he waited. 

The minutes dragged on, each one more unbearable than the last. Every few minutes, Neville got up and started pacing. Students passed by, but most avoided Umbridge’s office like they avoided Snape’s. None of them wanted to have the misfortune to be caught by one of them and dragged into an impromptu meeting. It worked better for Neville; fewer people to talk to him. He wanted nothing to do with anyone apart from Luna. 

Neville checked his watch again. It was nearly curfew, and there was still no sign of anyone coming out. It didn’t matter; he planned to wait as long as necessary. 

“Ms. Blake said I’d find you here.” 

Neville glanced at Alavel, but didn’t respond. 

“Is Ms. Lovegood still inside?” 

“Yes.” 

“Are you sure?” 

Neville rolled his eyes and grumbled at Alavel. 

“If your impression of My Lady Rose is that responsible, then I should commend her for being so responsible around you. At least I would, except I know what she put you through.” 

Neville stopped pacing and frowned at Alavel. 

“She told you?” he whispered. 

“No, but Reflectesalon did. He was concerned that she was pushing you too hard when she put you in the Nightmare Scenario.” 

“I’m fine. Besides, that’s not important now.” 

“So I see.” Alavel stood still for a moment, then approached Neville. “If you want to wait, you’ll have to have an escort. It’d be best if you weren’t caught out of your room after curfew, especially by a teacher whose disciplinary methods are of ethical concern.” 

“Can you wait here then?” 

“Neither of us should wait here, but Lady Moon will almost certainly want to return to her room after this is over. If you want to catch her, then you will want to wait somewhere on the path between here and there.” 

Neville looked back at Umbridge’s door, then to Alavel. 

“I’d rather wait here.” 

“It won’t do Lady Moon any good if you receive detention. What if Professor Umbridge gives you detention immediately? Then Lady Moon would be forced to return to her room, where people will no doubt be hard on her for some reason or another.” 

“That will happen anyway.” Neville thought about how Luna’s roommates treated her when she had nightmares. Like she was doing it just to spite them. Like her feelings didn’t matter. 

_They matter to me._

_Me too!_

An image of Rose waving her hand excitedly while bouncing up and down popped into his head. An idea struck him at the same time. 

“Does she still have standing permission to sleep in Gryffindor Tower?” 

“From Professor Dumbledore, yes, but do recall that Minister Fudge recently made Professor Umbridge the High Inquisitor. She may revoke that privilege if she sees fit, and if she really does think there’s a conspiracy within Hogwarts, she will almost certainly do so.” 

Neville swore under his breath. 

“What about the Hospital Wing? If Umbridge is making her write lines again, she’ll need to stay in the Hospital Wing, right?” 

“I think that would do well, although you’re missing the big question.” 

“What question?” 

“Why Lady Moon?” 

Neville opened his mouth, but closed it soon after. He didn’t have an answer to that. 

“She’s been talking to all of us about what happened at the CI meeting. I didn’t think anyone had told her anything.” 

“I doubt anyone has. She likely believes that there is something going on in Hogwarts and that it somehow involves Lord Skyeyes and his friends.” 

“But then why not hold Harry? Why Luna? Why so long?” 

“As you said, she’s been talking to all of you. If you had to single out one person in your group that would crack given adequate pressure, who would you choose?” 

Neville’s eyes grew wide as he realized the answer. Ginny wouldn’t say anything to prove how tough she was. Neville himself had gone through worse harm than anything Umbridge could throw at him. Harry believed in the cause. Umbridge wasn’t allowed around Hermione, as per Professor Dumbledore’s instructions to Madame Pomfrey. Ron didn’t know anything. Sally-Anne could talk her way out of anything, and probably convince Umbridge that the woman herself was behind everything. That just left Luna. Sweet, innocent, hopeful, trusting Luna. Umbridge must not have been applying a lot of pressure to her. If she’d really been in with Umbridge all day, Luna should’ve broken before lunch. 

While they had been talking, Alavel had moved them away from Umbridge’s office. That being the case, they were down the corridor when they heard the door open. Neville jumped to go see Luna, but Alavel held him back. Neville glared at him, but also took a moment to check his watch. Midnight. 

Labored footsteps echoed through the corridor, and Luna rounded the corner in a daze. Her skin looked more pale than normal, and her normally cheerful face held only a blank stare. Even when she spotted Neville and Alavel, she didn’t react. She just kept walking forward, as if unaware of what was happening. 

Alavel held a finger to his lips, then moved his arm away from Neville. 

“Moon.” 

Her head jerked upon hearing her nickname. Neville got a good look at her eyes. They were bloodshot, and he could still see trails of tears running down her face. 

“Toad?” Her voice was barely audible. “What are you doing here?” 

“Waiting for you,” Neville replied. “Come on. Let’s go to the Hospital Wing.” 

“I’m okay,” she said, her eyelids beginning to fall. “I’m fine.” 

“Lady Moon, I must insist.” 

Luna shook her head, but still followed where they led her. 

“What happened in there?” Neville asked when they were on the first floor again. 

Luna shakily held up her right hand. Her hand bore the words “I will not spread lies”, but unlike the previous incident where the words were barely legible, it looked as if the words had been burned into her hand. 

“I didn’t give in,” Luna said, her voice shaking as much as her hand. “She said I had to write lines until I talked, but I didn’t say a word.” She forced herself to smile, but even that shook. “Not about you, or Rose, or Brain, or Skyeyes, or Daddy, or anyone. She didn’t get anything from me. I didn’t break.” 

Neville stared at her in amazement. She’d been in Umbridge’s office for more than 12 hours. He doubted even he or Hermione could’ve lasted that long. 

“Luna, you’re amazing,” he said. 

Luna tried to smile again, but she couldn’t hold it for more than a few seconds. Tears fell from her eyes, and she began to cry. Neville pulled her to him, stroking her hair as Rose had done for him after he’d been chosen as a Triwizard Tournament champion. She buried her head in his chest and clung to his shirt. He didn’t care; Luna was safe, and that was all he cared about. 

“Not to sound inconsiderate,” Alavel said, “but we should get her to the Hospital Wing.” 

“You heard her,” Neville said. “Umbridge had her in there for more than 12 hours. She wrote lines the entire time with those blasted quills.” 

“My point exactly. We don’t know if there are any adverse effects. If there are, Madame Pomfrey will want to see her immediately.” 

“I know, just…” 

He looked back at Luna, wanting to ask her where she’d been the past few days, but another part of him told him he shouldn’t. 

“Thank you for not being mean,” she mumbled. 

“What? Of course not. Why would I be mean to you?” 

“Brain was. She was going to… she was going to kill me. And then you were… erm… were…” 

_Sorry, I’ll stop._

_It’s fine. What was it?_

_Rose, if you’re trying to make some sort of point…_

_If you want her to talk, you’ve got to tell her first._

“My… my parents are empty.” 

“What’s that mean?” 

Before Neville could stop himself, he was telling Luna everything he’d told Rose. How scared he’d been of Lestrange when he was a child, trying to teach his parents to talk, the Nightmare Scenario and how he’d drawn on his determination to stop her during that and the third task, and finally what Rose had told him about finding Lestrange and taking Hufflepuff’s Cup from her. 

By the time he’d finished, Luna had completely stopped crying. She clung to him, not saying a word. Neville knew they needed to go, but he couldn’t bring himself to let go of Luna. He wanted to stay with her forever, just the two of them. Neville didn’t have a care in the world apart from how Luna was feeling. 

“Sometimes, I’m… I’m afraid I can’t stop Lestrange from hurting someone else. I don’t know if I’m strong enough yet.” 

Alavel took a step towards them and opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Luna began to talk. 

“I… I have dreams. Dreams of other Lunas. I get confused sometimes…” 

And so Luna explained her dreams to Neville. She explained that they’d been worse two years ago, just around the earthquake, then said that she got Rose’s memories sometimes. 

“That’s what I meant last year when I said you always try to be brave. You always stand up for me. I’ve never met a mean Neville… until a few nights ago.” Tears returned to her eyes. “He… he was going to hurt me. I don’t know why.” She looked up at him, her eyes sad. 

“I would never hurt you, Moon.” 

“I know, but I can’t always tell when it’s you!” 

They stood in silence, their eyes locked on one another’s. Neville didn’t understand everything, but he thought he had the basics. Luna had psychic dreams that often left her questioning reality. 

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” he asked. 

Luna turned her pale eyes to the floor. “I’m only supposed to tell family. Rose only knew because she was like my big sister.” She looked back at him. “I guess… erm… I don’t know! I’m not supposed to tell anyone!” 

“Moon, I promise I won’t tell anyone.” 

“But… I’m…” 

“Lady Moon, if I may, I’m sure your parents wouldn’t be worried that Lord Toad knows. This is a young man who would throw himself in harm’s way for you. I can assure you he will never tell anyone.” 

Luna’s headed darted between Neville and Alavel, but her arms remained around Neville. A faint bark came from her pack. 

“Tutela’s right,” Luna said. “Rose trusts you. So I will too.” 

They stood in the corridor for a few more minutes, then Alavel finally convinced them to go to the Hospital Wing. Then he convinced Madame Pomfrey to keep Luna there for the night. And for his final tricks, he convinced Neville to return to Gryffindor Tower with him, and (Neville wasn’t paying attention after that) he somehow managed to convince Hermione not to ask questions. 

“If you can,” Neville whispered to Madame Pomfrey, “give her one of the good blankets.” 

Madame Pomfrey gave him a wink, then set about preparing an extra bed for Luna. 

* * *

Luna stared at her hand in the dark. Toad had left a few hours ago with Alavel. She didn’t want to fall asleep; if she fell asleep, she might forget. It’d been hard keeping it together, but it’d all been worth it to see Toad so proud of her. And he’d hugged her! She’d never realized how much she liked hugs. 

“Moon, you awake over there?” 

“Yes.” 

“How’s your hand?” 

Luna instinctively hid her hand under her blanket. Alavel had told her before going in not to mention anything to Brain. Any talk of Umbridge could set her off, and they wanted her to remain calm. Luna shuddered when she remembered the black tentacles that had tried to grab her. 

“Fine.” 

“I know you’re all trying not to talk about Umbridge around me, but really, I’m fine. I know she did that to you, I saw it when you walked in.” 

“Oh. It hurts a lot still.” 

There was silence for a while. Tutela, who’d taken up a spot at the foot of Luna’s bed, opened her eyes and perked up her ears. 

“I’m… I’m sorry. About what I did at the CI meeting.” 

“It’s… it’s fine, really.” 

“No, I shouldn’t have pushed you so hard to cast the Patronus. I… I’ve been getting carried away.” 

Luna thought again about casting the Patronus Charm, but she didn’t like thinking about it. Getting lost in her memories terrified her. She never knew which ones were hers, or who’d she be when she came out of them. It was best to just not try. 

“You’ve got some of Rose’s memories, right?” 

Luna gasped and Tutela picked up her head. 

“It’s the only way you could’ve known what Valignatiejir looked like without having been in the room that day. Neville said you knew it was Valignatiejir when he said it was a black dragon, but Rose has never mentioned a color. Not before that, at least. So you must be getting some of her memories. It’s why you don’t want to cast the Patronus, I think. You can’t tell which is which, right? I mean your memories and hers.” 

Luna began to panic. Now two people knew about her dreams, and one of them was talking about them openly. 

<Before you panic more, she’s using _doublespeak_. And she only knows about the memories from Rose, not from the other Lunas. Your secret is safe. >

“I… erm… I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you. That’s interesting, though. And… oh, I’m sorry. You’ve actually got her memories. She’s—” 

“I don’t want to talk about.” 

“Right.” 

Silence filled the Hospital Wing again, along with the smell of embarrassment. Luna was thankful for the silence. She didn’t want to talk more about her dreams. As Rose had said before, if anyone could figure it out, it’d be Brain. 

“Is there something going on between you and Neville?” 

Luna blushed when she thought of Toad’s arms around her. The smell of pine surrounding her, making her feel safe and warm. Even thinking about it, a warmth filled her body, and she smiled. 

“Erm… I don’t…” 

“Let me try it another way. If you fancy him, which I’m quite sure you do, and if he fancies you, which I’m quite sure he does, then go for it. Trust me. Breaking up with Ron was one of the worst mistakes I’ve ever made, and that’s counting running in blind last year at the World Cup. I’m never going to have another chance with him, but you’ve still got a chance with Neville. Take it while you still can.” 

Luna smelled something different in the Hospital Wing. She was sure it was from Hermione, and she was sure it was bitter, but it was hard to place the exact smell. It reminded her of the smells she’d associated with sadness and embarrassment. 

<Regret. You smell regret.>

<I can’t go for it.>

<He knows about your dreams now. He’ll understand. Talk to him.>

* * *

The next day, less than a minute after curfew ended, the occupants of the Hospital Wing heard a crashing sound from down the corridor. To Luna, it sounded an awful lot like someone had just jumped from the seventh floor down to the first. A few seconds later, Toad came into the Hospital Wing. Luna sniffed the air and got the smell of pine from Toad. She couldn’t help but smile. 

“Mr. Longbottom, curfew has just ended,” Madame Pomfrey said. “You couldn’t have possibly arrived here so quickly.” 

“I took a shortcut,” he said, wiping some dust from his clothes. “I promise I didn’t cut curfew to be here.” 

He walked straight over to Luna’s bed, waving a quick hello to Brain. 

“How’s your hand?” 

“Still hurts,” Luna said. She drew her legs in, hoping Neville would sit with her. 

To her delight, he sat down just in front of her. 

“It’s not as bad though.” 

She heard scribbling on a notebook, and caught a glimpse of Brain writing something down. With a wave of her hand, Brain held up the notebook to her. 

_Ask him to Hogsmeade today._

Luna blushed, and her mouth suddenly felt dry. Her mind instinctively ran through the possible creatures that could’ve infected her in the Hospital Wing. 

<You’re not sick, you’re nervous.>

“I’m glad you’re alright,” Brain said. 

“Me too.” 

She and Brain smiled at one another. 

“Erm…” he started. 

“I…” she started. 

Luna heard something that sounded like a hand hitting its owner’s face in frustration. 

“If you’re up to it…” Toad tried again. Now his face turned red. Maybe it was contagious. 

Tutela whined and covered her eyes with her paws. 

“Will you go to Hogsmeade with me today?” Luna and Toad said at the same time. 

They both stopped and stared at one another. The only sound they heard was the sound of Brain clapping. 

“Say yes!” came Madame Pomfrey’s voice from her office. 

Luna tried to say yes, but the words wouldn’t come to her mouth. She tried to say anything, but she couldn’t bring herself to. 

“If you’re feeling up to it,” Toad said, “we could go for just an hour or two.” 

<Just nod. You don’t have to speak.>

<But—>

<Just. Nod. Moon.>

Luna nodded. 

“Brilliant.” 

* * *

Neville spent most of the day with Luna in the Hospital Wing. Just around lunchtime, they left for Hogsmeade, Luna with a bandaged hand. 

On the way, they took a carriage with Sally-Anne and Ginny. Sally-Anne took one glance at the two of them, hand in hand, and smiled. 

“About time,” she said. “Have you two spotted Harry and Cho?” 

“No, why?” Neville asked. 

“They’re on a date, too,” Ginny said. She grinned. “Not to brag, but I get to set her on fire if I find him in tears.” 

Neville exchanged glances with Sally-Anne. 

“Don’t ask,” she said. 

They went their separate ways when they arrived. Neville and Luna headed towards Madam Puddifoot’s, when Neville spotted a jewelry shop out of the corner of his eye. An idea struck him. 

“Moon, would you mind getting us a table at Madam Puddifoot’s?” he asked. 

“Not at all.” She smiled back at him, then skipped over to Madam Puddifoot’s. 

With Luna distracted, he quickly made his way over to the vendor. 

“Have you got pins?” he asked. “Or broaches?” 

“Best in town!” the merchant exclaimed. “What do you need? I’ve got simple, I’ve got extravagant! Whatever it is you need, my friend, we’ve got it all here at Thindro’s Jewelers!” 

“Just something simple,” Neville said. He checked his pocket and found he didn’t have much in terms of money. Plus, he was planning on paying for food, meaning he only had a handful of knuts and a few sickles to spare. 

_Should’ve thought of that before coming here._

“I don’t know what I can afford, I just—” 

“Hey, don’t I know you?” the merchant asked, narrowing his eyes. 

“Erm…” 

“Merlin’s Beard, you’re Neville Longbottom!” 

“Yes?” Neville said slowly, nodding his head while wondering why the man knew who he was. 

“I saw you in the tournament last year! That was marvelous, how you fought that giant metal bug!” 

Neville smiled, glad to have some context. 

_Is this how Luna feels all the time? No wonder she’s always so confused._

“You were watching?” 

“Everyone in Hogsmeade was there!” the man exclaimed. He grabbed Neville’s free hand and shook it vigorously. “What a pleasure! _The_ Neville Longbottom, in my shop!” 

_No matter how much time goes by, I’m never going to get used to this._

“What are you looking for today? I’m sure I can find you the best!” 

“Just something simple,” Neville said. “A frog pin, and maybe a crescent moon if you’ve got it.” 

“Absolutely, if you’re sure. I’ve got much better than just those!” 

“It’s for my…” Neville wasn’t sure if he should call Luna his girlfriend. Weren’t there rules? Why were there rules? He decided he didn’t care. “For my girlfriend and I. Her sister used to call her ‘Moon’ and me ‘Toad’.” 

The merchant pulled out a box with a dozen glistening broaches. He took out two of them: one with green gemstones ( _Those can’t be real emeralds, can they?_ ) in the shape of a crouching frog, and another with glittering white gems in the shape of a crescent moon. 

“Those are brilliant, but I can’t afford them.” 

“I can’t have _the_ Neville Longbottom leave my shop without giving him the best I’ve got. You tell everyone where you found them — here, at Thindro’s Jewelers, the best in all of Hogsmeade! — and I’ll take it on faith that you’ll pay me back someday.” 

Neville stared at the two broaches. 

“I don’t know what to say.” 

“You don’t have to say anything to me, my friend. Just tell the world!” 

The merchant — presumably Thindro — placed each broaches in its own pouch, then handed them both to Neville. 

“Good luck with your lady friend! She must be some girl to have landed you, my friend!” 

Neville couldn’t help but smile. 

“She’s pretty special.” 

Neville walked over to Madam Puddifoot’s, fastening the toad broach to his shirt as he walked. 

“Can I help…” The man at the entrance began. “Neville Longbottom?” 

Neville frowned for a moment as the man in front of him recognized him. 

_Have I not been here all year? No, I don’t think I have. Got to remember to ask Harry how he deals with this all the time._

“How may we help you, Mr. Longbottom?” he asked. “I’m sure we can find you the best table available. How many are in your party?” 

“Two, and I see the other’s already got a seat. Thank you, anyway.” 

Neville walked past the man and sat down across from Luna at her table. 

“I was starting to worry you’d been captured by something,” Luna said. 

“Sorry, took a little longer than I’d expected to get you this,” Neville said, placing the crescent moon broach on the table. “I thought it matched your necklace.” 

“This is lovely,” Luna said, a broad smile on her face. “Thank you, Toad.” 

“You’re welcome,” he replied. He pointed to the one on his shirt. “I got one to match, so now you can tell me apart from all the other Nevilles.” 

Luna froze midway into putting on her own broach. Not even her chest was rising with her breaths. 

“Oh no,” Neville breathed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think. I forgot to trigger _doublespeak_ , and–” 

“You did that… for me?” Luna asked. “Not even… not even my sister ever did something like that.” 

Neville smiled at her. 

“Of course.” He reached over the table and took her good hand after she finished fastening her broach. “You didn’t just believe in me last year, you helped me believe in myself. Rose might have given me the final push, but… I couldn’t have done all that without you.” 

Neville squeezed Luna’s hand, and she squeezed his back. For that moment, he was on top of the world. 


	16. Make It Yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the PCs choose their own adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** Despite accidents and bad dreams, J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter.

Harry walked in a daze up to Gryffindor Tower. He didn’t know why he was going there, he just felt he should be walking somewhere. 

“Lord Skyeyes, how are you doing?” 

“Alavel, you can just call me ‘Harry’.” 

Harry stopped and waited for Alavel to catch up with him. The two continued on towards Gryffindor Tower. 

“You don’t look so well,” Alavel said. “Are you feeling alright?” 

Harry mentally tallied each part of his body to see if it was in “acceptable condition”. Spending so much time with Rose had made him question whether sickness was actually poison. 

“I feel fine.” 

“That’s not what I meant. How was your date with Ms. Chang?” 

“It was great… I think.” 

He didn’t need to look at Alavel to know the expression he had on his face. It was his “you don’t sound so sure” face, not to be confused with “are you telling me the whole truth?” face. To the casual observer, they were identical, but Harry knew Alavel well enough to tell them apart. 

“I mean… we didn’t just stop and talk. We talked, mostly about Cedric and Hermione, although I don’t know why Hermione. Cho kept bringing her up, but… I don’t know, it never seemed… nice. I always thought Cho was nice.” 

“She’s probably still upset about Cedric, who shouldn’t have gone straight to check on Lady Brain directly. He could’ve easily gotten the information he wanted from Lady Princess.” He gave Harry a significant glance — specifically, his “take note” glance. “Take note of that for the future.” 

Harry nodded, briefly remembering how much he used to hate Alavel giving him advice. 

“If you are truly interested in Ms. Chang, I suggest you give her some time to recover first. It seems your date has left you uncomfortable.” 

Harry sighed. “It was never like that with Ellie,” he muttered. He stopped walking for a moment when he realized he’d said it out loud. 

“I—” 

“It’s quite alright. Retaining feelings for someone is nothing to be ashamed of, but it can be unhealthy.” 

Harry smiled and nodded. He was glad that Alavel was the first person he’d found. 

“I’d like to talk to Ron about joining our club,” Harry said. “I don’t know about Sally-Anne. She said she doesn’t really agree with what we’re doing, but I think Ron will.” 

“I think that’s a wonderful idea, Lord Skyeyes.” 

“Harry.” 

“Of course, Lord Skyeyes.” 

Harry rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help but smile. 

* * *

“I’m sure you’re all wondering about what happened at the last meeting,” Harry said. “And why Hermione looks like Ron today.” 

“I thought she looked uglier!” Fred exclaimed. 

Ron clenched his fists, but got a quick head shake from Alavel, and so backed down. 

“Hermione’s still in the Hospital Wing. For those of you wondering, they’re easing her back into classes, so hopefully she’ll be alright. We really appreciate you all keeping this to yourselves. Madame Pomfrey says she’ll be letting people visit tomorrow, so make your plans accordingly.” Harry turned towards Ron. “Ron is here as our resident expert in summoning, which is what today’s lesson is about. Admittedly, the Summoning Charm is exactly that: a charm, so Professor Flitwick will be teaching it to you in your fourth year, if he hasn’t already. However, it has amazing defensive utility, as Ron has demonstrated before.” 

Harry motioned for Ron to step forward. 

Ron paled and took a few hesitant steps towards the mass of people. Teaching Sally-Anne was one thing; she wasn’t judgmental. Fred, George, and Ginny certainly were. They thrived on judging him, putting him down, and making his life all-around miserable. 

“When you walk into a room,” Harry said, “what’s the first thing you look for?” 

“Something to throw,” Ron said, scanning the room as it was. “You’ve got feathers, a few Quaffles I think, books, and some shoes. The feathers won’t do you any good, not unless you animate or transfigure them. The books are good as is. You can summon one to you for a quick block, but only if it’s close enough.” 

“Alright, let’s start there,” Harry said, drawing his wand. 

Ron got a flashback of Rose hurling a table at him and pulled out his own wand. Without waiting for Harry to act, he aimed it for one of the books. 

“ _Accio Book!_ ” 

The book flew towards him as Harry fired off a stunner. Ron rolled aside and grabbed the book. Without thinking, he aimed his wand for Harry’s feet. 

“ _Scotoro!_ ” 

The Scattering Hex caught Harry off guard and sent him flying. Being a Seeker, he had the reflexes to recover quickly and fire another stunner. Ron threw the book between him and Harry, then took aim at it. 

“ _Depulso!_ ” 

The book took the stunner and flew at Harry. Harry sidestepped and fired another stunner. 

Ron took the chance to bring the book back in, ducking aside the stunner. 

“ _Accio book!_ ” 

The book abruptly changed direction and knocked Harry on the side of the head. He fell to the ground as Ron caught the book. 

Their “students” broke into applause, although some were more concerned about Harry than they were excited for Ron. 

Neville was the first one to Harry. He checked him over, but declared him alright. 

“Hold on,” Ron said, holding up a finger. “That caught you in the head, so you might have a concussion.” 

“I’m fine,” Harry said, climbing to his feet. 

“Which is what you would say. Just follow my finger.” 

“What for?” 

“Well, it checks for—” 

“Forget I asked.” 

After Ron checked Harry over, he declared that he was alright. Then the entire crowd cheered. 

“See?” Harry said when he was back on his feet. “That was summoning, repulsion, and… what’s the last one you used? Your favorite spell?” 

“That was a Scattering Hex,” Ron said to Harry. 

Harry motioned towards the crowd, and Ron repeated it loud enough for them to hear. 

“That’s one of Professor Flitwick’s favorites,” Ron added. “He says it’s helped him out of a lot of tight places.” 

“It’s considerably more dangerous than the Summoning Charm,” Harry said, rubbing his head. “And we’ve all seen how dangerous that can be, so I just want everyone to practice summoning. Remember, it’s _Accio_.” 

“AW-see-oh,” Ron said. “And don’t flourish your wand when you cast it, just small flicks towards yourself.” He demonstrated himself, although remained careful not to summon anything. 

As the students broke off into groups and started practicing, Harry approached Ron. 

“Thanks again for doing this.” 

“Sure.” 

The thought that they hadn’t asked him in the first place still nagged at the back of his mind. 

_Let it go,_ he heard Sally-Anne’s voice say. _He asked you now, and that’s what’s important._

“I’m sorry it took so long to ask you,” Harry said. “We should’ve asked you about it in the first place.” Muttering, he added, “That’s what I get for listening to Hermione.” 

A flash of her face from last year entered his mind, bringing sorrow with it. It wasn’t long before it was replaced by an image of Hermione in the Hospital Wing. Ron didn’t know what she’d done to her hair and face, but he hated it. That wasn’t the Hermione he knew. 

“You alright?” Harry asked. 

Ron looked up at him. 

“Sure.” 

Ron was certain Harry was looking at him with scepticism, but he chose to ignore it. Instead, he turned towards the students and went to help them. As he did, he put any thoughts of Hermione away in the back of his mind. 

* * *

Luna tried to look around and find out where she was, but her head wouldn’t move. All she could see was a dank cavern. And Toad. No, not Toad, Neville. 

He clutched at his head and struggled to speak. 

“I will trap Moon in the worst of her nightmares. I can choose—” 

Neville abruptly stopped holding his head. Luna didn’t even see him move. 

“I will trap you, Moon, in the worst of your nightmares.” 

With no visible transition, Neville switched to clutching his head, this time with both hands. 

“I won’t say it!” he screamed. “You can’t—” 

His screams echoed as he faded away, leaving Luna alone in the cavern. 

“Moon.” 

Luna spun around and saw Hermione standing with her. She couldn’t tell, but she hoped it was Brain. Her hair was back to normal. 

“It’s alright, Moon. We’re going to help you.” 

Black ink leaked out from Brain’s shoes and spread over the floor. As it crept closer, black tendrils rose up from the ink. 

Luna stepped back, but bumped into something that felt like another person. She jumped and looked around. 

Neville stood behind her, smirking, his sword drawn. 

“I’m going to hurt you, Moon. No one’s here to save you this time.” 

She tried to run, but the ink had reached her feet. It held her fast, so she curled up and waited for the nightmare to end. 

“Make it stop,” she whimpered. “I want to wake up now!” 

All at once, her dream snapped back to the original one. She once again stood before Neville, watching him clutch his head. He fell to his knees, raving about not wanting to do something. 

Luna tried to cry out, but her mouth wouldn’t move. Instead, she rushed to his side, opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. 

He looked at her with tear-stained eyes, but he too was unable to speak. As he tried to move his mouth, his lips sealed over it. His jaw shook and moved as though he were still speaking, and his entire body trembled. 

As Luna struggled to understand, the dream snapped back to Neville and Hermione closing in on her. She screamed again and closed her eyes, trying to block it out. 

<Moon, open your eyes!>

She obediently opened her eyes and saw the familiar, somehow comforting view of her room in Ravenclaw Tower. Tutela stood over her, her ears and eyes at attention. 

Images of the dreams still swam in her mind. Neville’s tortured screams lingered, but his laughter kept drowning it out. It was as if one dream was trying to force the other out. 

<Are you alright?>

Luna shook her head, then got out of bed. She threw on her robe and grabbed her pack. 

<Moon?>

<I just need to get out.>

She ran over to the window, unlocked it, then jumped. 

* * *

The sound of scratching at his window put Neville on high alert. Before he knew the source, he was out of bed with his sword drawn, ready for an attack. Once he realized it was Tutela, he lowered his weapon. 

“Tutela?” he whispered, unlatching the window so the homunculus could get in. 

Tutela didn’t enter the room. Instead, she nodded behind her, then grew in size and lowered herself to just below the windowsill. 

“You want me to go with you?” 

Tutela nodded, then bumped him on the chest. 

“What?” 

Tutela, unable to speak with Neville, bumped him on the chest again. She turned her head to stare at something in the room. 

“What do you…” Neville glanced around the room, then spotted his toad broach sitting on his nightstand. He looked back at Tutela, and saw her gaze fixed on the broach. 

“You want me to wear it?” 

Tutela nodded. 

Neville grabbed his broach, having figured out why he’d been summoned, then climbed out the window and onto Tutela. 

The two of them floated to the ground, then crept across the grounds. Tutela led the way to the Whomping Willow, where Luna sat, curled into a ball. She wasn’t far from the base of the tree, so Neville walked cautiously to avoid setting it off. 

“Moon?” 

Luna looked up as they approached. Her eyes darted from his face to his broach, then she smiled. 

“Toad.” 

Neville ran over to her and put his arms around her. She immediately dissolved into tears, but struggled to tell him about her nightmares. 

“I don’t know what happened,” she sobbed. “I… first it was one, then the other. That’s never happened before! I don’t know what’s going on! They’re both so horrible! Then the really bad one kept trying to force its way back into my head!” 

At first, Neville tried to think of what would be doing that. Then he caught Tutela glaring at him, and decided he didn’t care, that Professor Dumbledore, Hermione, or Ron could figure it out instead. All that mattered was that Luna was upset. He held her tighter and let her cry. 

As Luna calmed down, she started breathing through her nose instead of her mouth. 

“You’re smelling me again, aren’t you?” 

“Your scent makes me feel safe,” she replied simply. She nestled closer to him. “Like pine needles.” 

Neville gave a small chuckle. “I still find them in my clothes. They get everywhere.” He glanced through the dark towards the Forbidden Forest. 

“I almost miss going there.” 

“Maybe Professor Hagrid will let you come with us to feed the thestrals.” 

“I’ll do that, if you’ll go with me and Professor Sprout to collect plants for the gardens.” 

“That sounds like fun.” 

“It is.” He smiled down at Luna. “Feeling better?” 

Her own dreamy smile formed on her face. “I am now.” 

“Good.” 

He kissed her. When he looked again, he saw Luna blush. Without saying a word, she nestled closer to him, and the two sat alone until the sun rose. 

* * *

Over the next month, Hermione slowly began going to classes again. She could feel the stares of her classmates, but did the best she could to tune them out. Her friends still remained wary of her, which didn’t help. 

“How are you feeling?” Sally-Anne asked one day after Ancient Runes. 

“Fine, just like the last time you asked,” Hermione said. “Honestly, Princess, I’m fine.” 

“Just making sure.” 

Harry didn’t let her rejoin the CI, which only furthered her frustration towards her friends. Of course, Ron didn’t talk to her, but that was just as well. She didn’t want to antagonize him. 

Her first meal was partway into December. She couldn’t remember feeling more alone than when she stepped into the Great Hall. Looking at her friends, she felt that none of them would accept her again. She’d been informed about Cedric and Cho, and didn’t want to make things worse by sitting with Cedric. Sally-Anne was sitting with Ron, and Ginny was with Dean, so she had nowhere to go. 

She crept along the Gryffindor table, looking for somewhere to sit. 

“Brain!” 

Her head darted in the direction of the sound, and she spotted Neville and Luna waving to her. Stranger than that, they were smiling at her. 

“Over here!” 

She hesitantly made her way to the Ravenclaw table and sat with them. 

“Glad to see you back,” Neville said. 

“Yeah,” she said slowly. “Erm… are you two sure you want to sit with me?” 

“Why wouldn’t we?” Luna asked. “Your hair’s almost back to normal.” 

“I suppose it is.” 

Hermione looked at the food in front of her. 

“I’m not hungry.” 

“Of course not,” Neville said. “None of us are.” 

“I sort of am,” Luna said, placing some food on her plate. 

“How’s Arithmancy going?” Neville asked. 

“Erm… pretty well, actually. I’ve gotten back into it, and Professor Vector’s been helping me with an idea I had a few months ago.” Hermione motioned to her bag. “I can show you, if you’d like.” 

“Show her,” Neville said, motioning to Luna. “She’s the smart one.” 

Hermione was certain she’d never seen Luna blush before, but there it was. 

“Moon, I’m… I’m really sorry.” 

Luna tilted her head, reminding Hermione of Rose. 

“About what?” 

“About… about what I did last month.” 

“It’s fine. You weren’t you then, but now you are.” 

For a moment, Hermione wanted to jump across the table and hug them both. 

“I… Thank you. I thought you’d still be upset.” 

“Brain, this is Moon,” Neville said. “I’m not sure you’ve met, but she doesn’t stay upset for long.” 

“I think we have met before,” Luna said, looking confused. 

“She also doesn’t entirely understand sarcasm.” 

“What’s a sarcasm?” 

Hermione nearly burst out laughing. 

“I’m sorry, that just reminded me so much of Rose.” 

And like that, she had friends again. After spending weeks thinking her friends would never forgive her, just like that, everything was fine. 

* * *

When an owl dropped a letter in front of her, all Sally-Anne felt at first was curiosity. It didn’t look like the typical letter from her parents, so she quickly inspected the return address. 

“Oh.” 

It was from Nikolai, which only served to further spark her curiosity. He certainly didn’t make a habit of writing her. 

“What is it?” Jonathon asked. She wasn’t sure if it was good or bad that the Nertlyn boys had taken a shine to her. Either way, Alex appreciated someone keeping an eye on them. 

“Something from Nikolai,” Sally-Anne replied, carefully opening the letter. “One of the players from the Quidditch match last year.” 

She opened the letter, paying mind to any prying eyes around her. 

_Dear Sally-Anne,_

_I am sorry to tell you this, but I have bad news. Viktor has been injured in practice. Last night, a man broke into the pitch where we were practicing. He fired a few hexes before we could stop him. One of them struck Viktor._

_He is alive, but his eyes are damaged. He is at St. Sana’s hospital, room 301. We could not get the man responsible. He ran before we got to him._

_It is dark magic, so they don’t know if they can fix him._

_Nikolai_

Sally-Anne stared at the letter, her appetite gone. Knowing that Viktor was alive and not fatally wounded brought her some comfort. Without his eyes, he couldn’t play Quidditch. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Sally-Anne looked up at her housemates. One word of what had happened, and it would spread to the entire school by supper, not to mention the _Daily Prophet_. 

“Just something I’ve got to sort out,” she replied. “Excuse me.” She looked down at her food. “I’ve lost my appetite.” 

She walked out of the Great Hall, looking for somewhere to rest and collect her thoughts. Turning her head to the ceiling, she considered the Room of Requirement at first, but she didn’t want to walk that far. 

“Myrtle.” 

With her heartbeat in her ears, she forced herself along the path to Myrtle’s toilet. She let herself in, and, as always, found Myrtle on her own. 

“Sally-Anne!” Myrtle exclaimed delightedly. 

At first, Sally-Anne didn’t want to say anything. She felt horrible about bringing her friend down with her, but her face gave her away. 

“What’s wrong?” Myrtle floated closer. “What’s that in your hands?” 

Fighting to keep back tears, Sally-Anne explained what was happening, emphasizing that Myrtle couldn’t tell anyone. 

“Anyone,” she said when she’d finished. “At all!” 

“I won’t tell anyone,” Myrtle said. She put her ghostly arms around Sally-Anne, not that Sally-Anne could feel them. “I’m so sorry. At… at least he’s alive.” 

“There is that,” Sally-Anne said, sitting on one of the toilets. “It’s not much, though. Quidditch is his life. It’s all he’s ever wanted to do. What’s he supposed to do?” 

Myrtle kept opening her mouth, but she couldn’t find the words. 

“It… it will be alright,” she managed at last. 

“First, I’ve got to get there,” Sally-Anne said. “I was going in a week anyway. I was going to spend the winter holiday with him in Bulgaria.” She shook her head to clear it. “No use worrying about that now. If nothing else, I can go see him in a week. For now… I should probably write to Professor Moody. He might have some ideas about what to do. I’ll see if Madame Bones will respond to my letters. She might know who that man was. Or maybe Professor Dumbledore knows something, or Professor McGonagall.” 

Sally-Anne took out a notebook and started making a list of people that might be able to help with Viktor. Then a list of people that might know about the man who attacked him. Finally, she started on her hardest task: getting to Bulgaria. 

“I should write to Mum and Dad so they know. They may have some idea of how to get me to Bulgaria. If I can get back home, they can get me anywhere. Now I need to figure out how I’m getting home.” She opened her planner and checked the date. “December 15th, and I’ve got the weekend to worry about this. I suppose that’s something.” She flipped forward. “But term doesn’t end for another week. I can’t imagine it’d be alright for me to miss that much.” She closed everything up and put it in her pack. “Now what?” 

She bid farewell to Myrtle and started towards class. All day, she tried to come up with a reason to be excused from class for a week. She didn’t want to lie, but she didn’t want to risk word getting out about Viktor. Assuming it hadn’t gotten out already. 

That night, she approached Professor McGonagall before dinner. 

“Professor McGonagall, I’ve got a request to make, but you can’t tell anyone about it.” 

Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows. 

“Oh?” 

“Viktor’s been hurt. Badly. They aren’t sure if he’ll be able to see again. I’d like to leave for the winter holiday a week early. I’ll take whatever exams I need to before I go if I can, or when I get back. I don’t mind the extra work if the other professors don’t. And I won’t get the answers from anyone, I promise.” 

“I doubt there’s a single person in this school that would honestly believe you’d cheat,” McGonagall said. “That’s not the problem. We can’t just send you home early, not without the appropriate paperwork.” 

“I can have my parents write to you or Professor Dumbledore if that’s what you need.” 

“In a normal year, that would be all you’d need. But we’ve been under scrutiny from the Ministry. They’ll want to know the exact nature of your absence, and I’m sure you don’t want word of this spreading more than it has to.” 

“I’m afraid it’s going to before long,” Sally-Anne said. “I’m surprised no one knows about it already.” 

“If there’s one thing Durmstrang teaches, it’s how to keep secrets,” McGonagall replied. “Even I don’t know Durmstrang’s location.” 

Sally-Anne nodded. “What can I do?” 

“I’m willing to grant your request, but it’s not up to me to keep it a secret. Umbridge will have to know as well.” 

“I understand, thank you.” Sally-Anne curtsied, mostly out of habit. “Although, to other students, you might want to consider calling her ‘Professor Umbridge’. It demonstrates a more unified front.” 

McGonagall raised her eyebrows again. 

“I’ll keep that in mind, Ms. Perks. I’m glad I could be of assistance.” 

Sally-Anne spent dinner trying to decide whether to risk asking Umbridge. Hermione was wrong; she wasn’t out to get them. At the same time, she couldn’t be too careful. She didn’t know Umbridge that well. 

Her indecision persisted into the night. That night, she had rounds with Malfoy. That meant an exchange of pleasantries, and then utter silence for the rest of the night. 

“Any plans for the holiday?” Sally-Anne asked, making another attempt at conversation. 

“My business is none of yours!” Malfoy snapped. 

Sally-Anne made a note that she’d heard the same response in various ways from Malfoy. 

“Malfoy, I’ve got a problem with which you might be able to help.” 

“It’s not my problem!” 

“I need something from someone, but if I ask her directly about it, I risk exposing a secret that I want kept… well, secret.” 

“As I recall, exposing secrets is what you do best,” Malfoy sneered. 

Sally-Anne made two mental notes: her patience had improved, and Malfoy’s face was particularly slappable that evening. 

“What would you do?” 

“Find leverage and use it against them, obviously.” 

Sally-Anne ran through anything she might be able to use as leverage, but she came up dry. 

“What if I haven’t got anything?” 

“Then find something! It’s not like you to complain, Perks.” 

“I’m not—” 

“Aren’t you the one that said last year to stop complaining and just go for it?” 

_If you want a better world, you’ve got to make it yourself!_

“I did say that, I think.” She smiled at him. “Thank you, Malfoy. You’ve been a great help.” 

Sally-Anne almost couldn’t believe that she meant that. 

“Ha ha,” he replied dryly. He clearly didn’t believe she meant it. 

* * *

The next morning, Sally-Anne found Professor Umbridge in her office. She walked in and explained the situation. 

“Professor McGonagall said I needed to clear it with you first,” Sally-Anne said. “I don’t want it getting out that Viktor’s been injured, otherwise the _Daily Prophet_ will jump on it.” 

Umbridge sat in her chair, sizing up Sally-Anne with a look. Sally-Anne remained neutral, not wanting to put her off. 

Without another word, Umbridge reached into her desk and took out a piece of parchment. She wrote something on it, then tapped it with her wand. The parchment rolled up, then Umbridge handed it to Sally-Anne. 

“This will identify you as yourself if anyone asks,” Umbridge said. “I’ve signed it myself, so you won’t have any problems. The official reason for your absence will be a family emergency. I’ll fill in any details the Ministry requires, without including Mr. Krum’s name.” 

“Thank you, Professor,” Sally-Anne said. “I can never thank you enough.” 

“I’m sure. Will you require transportation to Bulgaria?” 

Sally-Anne shook her head. “No, thank you. I got a letter from my mum this morning. She said she’s taken care of everything. I just need to get back to Platform 9¾.” 

Umbridge took another piece of parchment from her desk and handed it to her. “Take that to McGonagall. She should know what to do with it.” 

Sally-Anne took the parchment. After placing it in her pack, she curtsied to Umbridge. 

“Thank you again, Professor.” 

Umbridge nodded to her, then Sally-Anne left her office to find Professor McGonagall. 


	17. Happy Snowy Time!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which few people are happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling owns Viktor Krum.

Dread didn’t reach Sally-Anne until the lift doors opened. She still remembered the odd smell of St. Mungo’s. It didn’t carry the stench of disinfectant like Muggle hospitals did. It was… empty. Like it didn’t have a scent. She made a note to ask Luna what she thought it smelled like. 

Even thought Nikolai had told her the doctors didn’t think there was anything they could do, Sally-Anne held a good thought. They had magic; surely there was something they could do to restore his eyesight to the way it had been. The only limit she knew for sure was raising the dead, and even that wasn’t a hard limit, apparently. Deep down, she knew it would be alright. 

She walked down the small corridor, following the helpful signs to the waiting room. She was thankful none of them pointed up or down, or spun, like the ones in Diagon Alley. No wonder so many witches and wizards went mad. 

When she opened the doors to the waiting room, the full weight of the situation hit her. 

It wasn’t the entire Bulgarian Quidditch team that threw her off. Nor was it the presence of Viktor’s family. Sally-Anne certainly wasn’t a mother, but it wasn’t a far leap to imagine Mrs. Weasley worrying herself sick over even the smallest of injuries. So seeing Viktor’s family so worried didn’t startle her at all. It was Nikolai. 

She’d never seen Nikolai doubt, not once. He wasn’t particularly chatty, but he had always found some way to stay positive during practice, even during the worst of it. There, in the waiting room, she saw tears in his eyes. He sat with Vlad and Andrei, whom Sally-Anne recognized from the previous year. Both of them were also struggling to contain themselves. She was glad they all had someone to lean on. Andrei and Vlad were leaning on each other, hand in hand, and Nikolai sat with Adele, who nudged him when Sally-Anne walked in. 

“ _Has he gotten worse?_ ” Sally-Anne asked in Bulgarian, looking to each member of the room for an answer. “ _What’s happened?_ ” 

Adele was the first to respond. She motioned to the chair beside her, and Sally-Anne took a seat. 

“Last ve knew, curse was eating avay at him,” she said. “Every time zhey try to repair hees eyes, curse harms them again. He… he has already geeven up. Told us to forget about heem.” 

“When was this?” 

Adele looked away, and Sally-Anne suddenly found herself short of breath. For a moment, she was back in Gryffindor common room, finding Harry and Hermione over Rose’s dead body. Reprisals of “Rose Peta-Lorrum is dead” filled her ears, but she snapped herself back to reality. 

“A few hours ago, when Nikolai got your letter, and we told Viktor you would be here soon.” Adele looked to Nikolai, then to Andrei, and finally to Vlad, but no one else spoke up. “He asked us not to let you in. That he didn’t want to see you.” 

A wave of nausea spread over her, and she feared she would be sick. The color drained from her face, and she struggled to stay coherent. 

“I… I see,” she managed through the fog. 

Footsteps echoed in the waiting room, but all Sally-Anne could see were stars. She tried focusing on the voices she heard, but they were too muffled for her to hear them. 

Someone rested a firm hand on her shoulder, and she could faintly make out a face she didn’t recognize. 

“ _Viktor has always been like this,_ ” came a gruff voice. “ _He is stubborn and thinks the world of you. He thinks for you to see him this way would be to show weakness. If there is one thing he will not stand for, it is being diminished in your eyes._ ” 

When the blood returned to her head and her vision cleared, Sally-Anne could make out a man that looked a lot like Viktor crouching in front of her. 

“You must be his father,” she mumbled. 

“ _I apologize, but I cannot speak English. I was never good with words._ ” 

Sally-Anne blinked and attempted to straighten herself. 

“ _You must be Mr. Krum. I’m Sally-Anne Perks, although Viktor always calls me Princess._ ” 

“ _I know. When he last visited us, he would not stop talking about you. The most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, he said._ ” He grasped her hand with both of his. “ _It is a privilege to finally meet you._ ” 

She shook his hand. 

“ _Likewise. I just wish it were a better time than this._ ” 

He nodded his agreement, then took the chair across from her. 

She adjusted herself again, although she still felt faint. 

“ _He is still alive, and that is important,_ ” Mr. Krum said, more to the room in general and not just to her. “ _So long as he is alive, there is hope._ ” 

Sally-Anne smiled, which she found harder than ever. Almost ever. 

_This isn’t Rose. He’s still alive. We can still help him. He’s just being stubborn now. Because of course he is, he’s one of my friends._

“ _What about Quidditch?_ ” Nikolai asked. 

Everyone else in the room looked expectantly at Mr. Krum and Sally-Anne, hoping for an answer. No, not just any answer; they all wanted to hear that he’d be back on the pitch by the end of the week. Some part of Sally-Anne told her that would never happen. 

_What does it matter? I’m never going to see him again._

“ _One problem at a time,_ ” he said. “ _They’ll be letting us back in to see him soon. When that happens, I will take Princess back to see him. I think we can convince him to come to his senses._ ” 

“ _Do you really think he’ll listen?_ ” Sally-Anne asked. “ _Right now, he’s probably going to just send me home._ ” 

“ _Then we come back tomorrow. He may be stubborn, but we are more stubborn!_ ” 

Sally-Anne tried to smile again, but it still came out wrong. 

“ _I don’t see how you’re so hopeful._ ” 

“ _Because I look out and see the big picture. That man could’ve done a lot worse to Viktor than he did. But Viktor is still alive. He is moping; he does that. But he won’t do it forever._ ” 

He leaned in closer to her, and motioned for her to do the same. When she did, he whispered something else to her. 

“ _And if I’m not, no one else here will be._ ” 

* * *

After almost an hour of waiting, Sally-Anne and Viktor’s father went into the back. They followed a medic through the corridor and down to a single room. In the room was a window, through which Sally-Anne and Viktor’s father could see Viktor. He laid in a bed, staring at the ceiling. He looked stoic, almost sad. 

“ _This is new,_ ” Viktor’s father said, looking to the medic for an answer. 

“ _The curse is eating away at his eyes,_ ” the doctor said. “ _The enchantments on this room are all we could do to keep it level. It is becoming more aggressive as time goes on. We’re worried it may reach his brain._ ” 

Sally-Anne struggled to recall anything about biology. It wasn’t exactly considered important at Hogwarts. For a moment, Sally-Anne wished Ron or her mum were there with her to explain it. She didn’t know for sure that either would be able to, but it seemed like something one of them would’ve had stashed away in their heads. 

“ _Can’t you stop it?_ ” Viktor’s father asked. 

“ _We can, but we’d need to remove his eyes entirely to catch it all. We’ve tried removing parts of them, but the curse moves too fast. We can’t keep pace with it._ ” 

“ _Then do it,_ ” Viktor’s father said. “ _Remove his eyes, regrow them like you’ve been doing, and we’ll all go home._ ” 

“ _It’s not that simple,_ ” the doctor replied. “ _If we remove his eyes entirely, they’ll be nothing to regrow. He’ll need prosthetic eyes, and—_ ” 

“ _They’re not legal in official Quidditch matches,_ ” Sally-Anne said. 

The doctor looked at her as if he’d only just noticed her. 

“ _That’s right. The moment prosthetics came up, he refused, then yelled at me to leave. He won’t listen to anything else._ ” 

“ _I am his father. If there’s no other way to save his life, I give you permission to do it anyway._ ” 

The doctor shook his head. “ _He’s older than 17, which means he’s got the final decision. It’s up to him, and he refused. My hands are tied._ ” He motioned to the white, otherwise empty room. “ _You are welcome to go inside and talk to him._ ” 

Sally-Anne looked to Mr. Krum for their next move. He knew Viktor better than she did, so he’d know who it was best to send in first. 

“ _I’ll go in and talk to him,_ ” he said, having the same thought she’d had. “ _Wait here, but stay out of sight. I’ll come out when I’m finished, and you can have a go at him._ ” 

“ _Like good cop, bad cop?_ ” 

Mr. Krum stared at her blankly. 

“ _One of us is mean, making him more open to the other._ ” 

He considered her idea for a moment, then nodded. 

“ _Something like that._ ” 

He opened the door and entered Viktor’s room. The moment he did, Viktor turned towards him, and Sally-Anne ducked out of sight. She flushed when she realized he probably couldn’t see her. 

“ _Can he see?_ ” she asked the doctor. 

“ _For the moment,_ ” he replied. “ _So long as he doesn’t leave that chamber. When he does, the curse will eat away at his eyes again, taking his sight immediately._ ” 

Sally-Anne watched Viktor and his father shout at one another. She couldn’t hear them, but judging by their expressions, she was thankful she couldn’t. 

“ _Do you know what curse it is?_ ” 

The doctor shook his head. “ _Experts should be arriving soon. They might have a better idea._ ” He frowned at her. “ _I take it from your accent that you’re not family?_ ” 

“ _Viktor’s girlfriend._ ” Sally-Anne curtsied. “ _Sally-Anne Perks, of England. We met last year at Hogwarts, during the Triwizard Tournament._ ” 

The doctor gave little response, but excused himself to tend to other patients. 

Sally-Anne turned back to the chamber in time to see Viktor’s father slam his fist into the wall. 

He turned back to her and stormed out, red in the face. His anger didn’t fade until he’d left the chamber, when he immediately returned to his kindly manner. 

“ _He is warmed up,_ ” Mr. Krum said. 

“Suddenly, many of Viktor’s mannerisms and habits make sense,” Sally-Anne muttered. 

“ _What?_ ” 

“ _Nothing, just thinking aloud._ ” 

With that, Sally-Anne entered the chamber. Sound from the busy hospital outside was cut off when the door closed behind her, casting an eerie silence over the clean white room. 

“Viktor.” 

Viktor turned in his bed to face her. When he saw her, his stare turned to a glare. 

“ _It’s alright. It’s me._ ” 

“I can still see fine,” he muttered. “What are you doing here?” 

“I came to see you. In case you needed me.” 

“I am not needing anyone. When I leave room, I lose eyes. I can never play Quidditch again. I can never see your face again. Such beauty will be wasted on me.” 

“You don’t know that. If this is a curse, surely it can be dispelled. The doctor said he’s bringing in experts on curse-breaking. When they arrive, they’ll—” 

“They will find that they can do nothing. This is life now. I have nothing. No future.” 

Sally-Anne smiled, but Viktor wouldn’t meet her gaze. 

“You’ve still got me.” 

“No. You must leave.” 

“I’m not leaving you. Not while you’re like this. No matter what, I’m staying by your side.” 

“I will not let you waste life with me.” 

Sally-Anne wasn’t surprised by how stubborn Viktor was being. At the same time, she felt faint. Pain returned to her stomach, and she felt weak on her feet. 

“I live to help people, and I’m certainly not about to leave you to face this alone.” 

Viktor turned his gaze towards her. His eyes were empty, like he already couldn’t see her. 

Her stomach twisted in knots under his cold glare. Without thinking, she took a step back. 

_Keep it together._

She took another step forward, putting herself next to his bed. 

He looked away from her and back towards the ceiling. 

“Leave now.” 

His words stung her, but she held fast. 

“No. You’re strong, but this is too much. This is too much for anyone.” 

“I will handle me. You go have happy life with other man. Better man.” 

“Damn it, Viktor, I don’t want another man, I want you! I love you, you stubborn git! Either stop wallowing in self-pity, or let me keep you company while you do, because I’m not leaving!” 

Sally-Anne didn’t hesitate, even though she hadn’t meant to snap. She’d had enough of people not listening. 

“I will miss you, Princess.” 

Tears blurred her vision. She blinked them clear, then glared at Viktor again. 

“You won’t miss me too long. I’ll be back tomorrow.” 

* * *

Neville, Hermione, and Luna sat alone in a compartment on the Hogwarts Express. Neville figured Harry still didn’t trust Hermione, so he’d elected to sit in a separate compartment, along with Ron (who didn’t want to be near Hermione still) and Ginny (who wanted to sit with Harry). 

“What are your plans for the holiday?” Hermione asked them. 

“We’re working it out,” Neville replied, smiling at Luna. “We’re hoping to get together over the holiday for a Snowy Time celebration.” 

“Oh.” 

Neville frowned at Hermione for a moment, wondering why she suddenly looked downcast. Then it occurred to him: they were her only friends. At least, she probably considered them her only friends. Without the two of them, Hermione had no one. 

“Would you like to join us?” Luna asked, noticing the same thing Neville did. Or, knowing Luna, it was more likely that she saw a friend upset and decided to pull her in. Or wanted backup in case of a nargle attack or something. Neville wasn’t always sure what went through Luna’s head, but he knew it was never boring. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Of course,” Neville said. “You’re our friend, and I doubt Gran will let me spend time with Luna unless she knows more of my friends will be there.” 

“Does… does she know you two are dating?” 

“Yes, and she’s not taking it well. I wrote her a letter and told her. The most positive part of the letter was her telling me I was too young to be dating.” 

“And… and the worst of it?” 

_I can’t believe you’re still wasting your time with that girl’s friends! Especially someone deluded enough to think she was her sister! Especially the daughter of that madman Lovegood! You had better not bring her around this house! Imagine what people would think!_

“You don’t want to know.” 

Hermione nodded, and Neville was thankful that she stopped asking questions about it. He hadn’t told Luna everything about the letter, specifically because of how his gran had talked about her father. The only time Neville ever saw Luna angry was when someone badmouthed her father. 

They didn’t speak much after that. Luna fell asleep on Neville’s shoulder, and Hermione occupied herself by staring out the window. Neville didn’t mind. He sat and practiced keeping his mind clear. 

Neville’s heart sank when he heard the train pulling in to the station. He glanced at Luna, whose head was resting on his shoulder. For a moment, he wondered how long he could get away with not waking her up. 

“We’re here,” she said, sounding sadder than usual. 

_Of course, she can hear it._

“Yeah,” he said, with equal enthusiasm. “Your dad will be waiting for you.” 

Her face lit up. 

“My two favorite boys in the whole world.” 

She sat up and took his hand. 

“I’ve told him all about you,” she said. “He’ll be so happy to meet you.” 

Neville smiled, not sure how else to take it. He’d heard some fathers could be protective of their daughters. He didn’t know what to expect, but he figured if Luna thought it was alright, then there was nothing to worry about. 

“We’ll work out a plan over the holiday,” Neville told the girls as they left the Hogwarts Express. 

“It’s not like I’m doing anything else,” Hermione said. 

She sounded like she was trying to be cheerful, but Neville wondered if she’d forgotten how. 

Luna guided Neville around the platform, seeking out her father. He got nervous the longer it took, until finally they spotted him. 

_Here goes nothing._

“Daddy!” 

“Luna!” 

Luna released his hand and ran to meet her father. They threw their arms around one another, looking like they were never happier. 

“Toad!” Luna called back to him. She smiled excitedly and waved him closer, looking more like her sister than he’d ever seen. 

Neville walked over to the pair, wishing for a moment he were back in the Triwizard Tournament. That felt easy compared to meeting Luna’s father as her boyfriend. 

“The broach is new,” her father was saying. 

“They came from Thindro’s Jewelers, best in all of Hogsmeade,” Neville said automatically. He extended his hand to her father. “It’s nice to properly meet you, Mr. Lovegood.” 

“Same,” Mr. Lovegood said. “I saw you last year in the tournament. That was splendid.” He took Neville’s hand. “Use your talents to take care of my daughter, and I’m sure we’ll get along splendidly.” 

“You’ve got a deal.” 

Neville released her father’s hand and turned to Luna. 

“See you soon, Moon.” 

“Bye, Toad.” 

After a quick hug, which didn’t last nearly as long as Neville had wanted it to, he was off to find his gran. 

* * *

Sally-Anne had returned to Viktor’s room every day that week. Every day, she went in and talked to him. Every day, he refused to see reason. His eyes were stable, but he couldn’t stay inside the chamber forever. Even knowing he would die once he left the chamber, he refused to consider prosthetic eyes. Experts in curse-breaking, arithmancy, and dark magic came and went, all unable to remove the curse entirely. Some had better success than others, but it always returned in the end. 

_I wonder if Hermione could help,_ Sally-Anne found herself thinking at the end of the week. She realized that term had ended that day, and her friends would be returning to their homes. It was hard to tell what time it was; time didn’t seem to pass properly in a hospital. 

_No, I mustn’t get Hermione involved. Not with her the way she is. Perhaps Professor Dumbledore could help._

As she sat in the waiting room, talking with Vlad and Andrei, Nikolai and Adele burst in from the back. 

“ _Something’s happened! Come quickly!_ ” 

Sally-Anne and Viktor’s parents were the first on their feet. She rushed into the back, hearing the problem long before she saw it. 

Viktor’s screams echoed through the corridors. They faded in and out, as if someone was fiddling with the dial on a television set. 

Doctors rushed in the same direction they were running. She heard incantations being bellowed through the corridors. 

All at once, the screams stopped, leaving a cold, unnerving silence in their wake. 

“ _What was that?_ ” Viktor’s father demanded. 

The doctor that had been tending to Viktor stepped forward. 

“ _The curse has regained strength. We had to completely sedate him, but the chamber won’t hold it back any longer. We’ve got to constantly fight it to keep it at bay._ ” 

“ _So he’s unconscious?_ ” Sally-Anne asked, remembering something Hermione had once mentioned. “ _Doesn’t that mean the decision on his eyes falls to his parents?_ ” 

All eyes turned from Sally-Anne to the doctor. The doctor himself looked to Viktor’s mum and dad. 

“ _It does. If you want—_ ” 

“ _Do what you need to,_ ” his mum said. 

“ _Take out his eyes, and get rid of that damn curse!_ ” his father roared. “ _Now!_ ” 

* * *

Sally-Anne remained in a daze the rest of the day. 

The operation hadn’t taken long. What had happened next took centuries. 

Sally-Anne could still see the doctor entering the waiting room. Telling them it was a success, that the curse was gone. That Viktor would be okay. 

She could still hear his next words. 

“ _He wants you to all go home. He… he never wants to see any of you again._ ” 

His mother had started crying. His father had started roaring. The entire Bulgarian Quidditch team had started speaking at once. 

Sally-Anne hadn’t spoken a word. She’d just felt numb. 

Viktor was allowed to make his own choices, and he’d demanded that everyone be sent away. He was furious that his parents had made the decision for him. Furious that no one had stood up to them. 

“ _He will move on,_ ” his father had told her. “ _We will stay in touch, let you know how he is doing. But… you may not want to wait for him._ ” 

Sally-Anne met her parents at the airport that night. It didn’t take long to spot them, especially with Taltria guiding them. The moment her dad reached her, he put both arms around her. 

“I’m so sorry, Princess,” he whispered. 

“I’ll be alright,” she said. “I just want to go home.” 

“You’re in luck,” he said. “That’s where we happen to be going. Would you like a lift?” 

A smile flashed on Sally-Anne’s face, but disappeared quickly. “Thank you for trying, Dad, but I’m not in the mood for jokes.” 

The smile disappeared from his face as well. “I understand. We’ll take you home.” 

Sally-Anne stared out the window the entire ride home. She watched fields and buildings pass by them, barely visible in the dark, thinking of Viktor the entire time. 

“I’m not surprised,” she said as they neared her house. 

“Hm?” Taltria asked. 

“Viktor didn’t want my help,” she said. “I’m not surprised. I suppose he’s never wanted my help, I just didn’t worry about it until now.” 

“An independent man isn’t a bad thing,” her father said from the front seat. 

“Maybe, but not for me,” Sally-Anne said. “I like looking after people, seeing them improve. Sure, there are lots of people that don’t need help all the time, but this was one of those times when he needed my help. If he wasn’t going to accept it even then, when was he going to accept it?” 

“If you two weren’t going to work out,” her mum said, “best that you figured it out now rather than after getting married and having three kids.” 

Sally-Anne chuckled at the thought of her having kids. 

“I’m not sure I could handle three kids.” 

“Why not?” Taltria asked. “You handle more than that on a regular basis at Hogwarts. There’s Lord Skyeyes, Lady Brain, Lord Cohort, Lady Firecracker, Butterhead, all however many girls you’ve got.” 

“Why not Neville and Luna?” 

“They handle themselves.” Taltria grinned. “Besides, Lord Toad’s beaten me too many times for me to think of him as a kid.” 

Sally-Anne forced herself to smile and hoped people would stop talking after that. With thoughts of Hermione and Umbridge to fill the void she’d created from Viktor, she struggled with what to do next the rest of the ride home. 

* * *

Hermione met Luna and Neville at Luna’s house. It didn’t surprise her in the least to find it decorated with all sorts of ridiculous odds and ends that they claimed were supposed to be for the holiday. 

They sat in the snow and opened presents together. It wasn’t quite the same as it’d been two years ago, but it was close enough for the three of them. Even better for Hermione; she wasn’t angry at either of them. If anything, she felt that they should’ve been angry at her. 

Luna opened Neville’s present first. It was a black notebook with a silver crescent moon on the cover, similar to Rose’s notebook. 

“I thought it’d help you keep track of things,” Neville said. “Not just for investigations.” He held up a bauble Hermione recognized as his rememberall and smiled. The clouds inside had turned red. “It’s better than a rememberall. I haven’t the faintest idea what it’s telling me I’ve forgotten.” 

Luna smiled and hugged Neville. After a minute during which Hermione felt awkward, Neville handed her a present: a simple jar of brown powder. 

“Hot cocoa,” Hermione said, smiling. 

“It always made Rose feel better,” Neville said. 

“Thank you.” 

After Luna gave Neville her present, it was Hermione’s turn. 

“My uncle took these at our family reunion about two years ago,” Hermione said, handing them each a picture frame. “He gave me a copy, and I thought you’d both appreciate one.” 

The picture in question was one of Rose and Hermione. Rose had her usual overexcited grin on her face and an arm around Hermione. Hermione was in the process of rolling her eyes. 

“That’s brilliant,” Neville said. “Very much like you two.” 

“I’ll use it to remember those looks always,” Luna said. 

“Thanks. I’m not… It wasn’t because I was in it, I just thought—” 

“Brain, it’s fine,” Neville said. 

“But… I still can’t understand why you’d care after what I did. Now I can’t focus, and I feel so… stuck. I mean, what good am I in all this?” 

“You don’t need to be on the front lines, Brain,” Neville said. “Leave that to beatsticks like me, or evokers like Firecracker. You and Moon are magic support.” 

“You’re an abjurer, like Rose’s mum,” Luna added. “You don’t need to worry about being Rose. Just have some spells ready all the time, like Sk’lar. He liked _glitterdust_ , _freezing fog_ , _grease_ , and anything with the word ‘dimension’ in it. Her mum was an Initiate of the Sevenfold Veil, so she used walls all the time.” 

A smile came to Hermione’s face when she thought back to all the stories Rose had told her about her parents. Her family was the only reason Rose hadn’t completely lost her mind. 

“I’m not good at it either,” Luna said. “So we’ll have to work on it together.” 

Luna frowned, then looked at Tutela. They held a silent conversation for a moment that ended in Luna smiling. First, she directed her smile at Neville, who smiled back, even though he was as confused as Hermione. Then Luna reached into her pack and took out a worn out journal filled with pieces of parchment sticking out of it. 

“I think these will help you,” Luna said, pressing the journal into Hermione’s hands. “They’re my mum’s notes. You’ve got to promise to take good care of them, and bring them back when you’re finished.” 

“Moon, I…” Hermione looked at the journal in her hands and found herself at a loss for words. “I can’t accept this.” 

“You’re not keeping it, just reading it.” 

Luna slowly withdrew her hands and immediately took Neville’s hand. She squeezed it tightly, looking for assurance that she’d done the right thing. Her face shone brightly when Neville put his arm around her. 

“Are you sure?” Hermione asked, looking at the journal again. 

“I’ve read them plenty of times,” Luna replied. “Enough that I know most of it by heart. So long as you take care of them, you can hold onto them.” 

Hermione nodded, still in shock over Luna’s decision. She knew from Rose that she was holding one of the last remnants of Pandora Lovegood. 

“I’ll take good care of them,” Hermione said. “I… I don’t know what else to say.” 

She carefully opened the journal and flipped through some pages. It was covered with runes, diagrams, and plenty of scribbles. She wasn’t sure how easy it would be to read, but she knew Luna could translate it for her if she needed. 

When Hermione was finished, she placed it gingerly in her pack, hoping the magic inside would keep it safe. After she’d placed it inside, she turned back to Luna. 

“Thank you so much, Moon.” 

Luna leaned over and hugged Hermione. 

“You and Toad have always been my Rose when I didn’t have anyone else. Mummy would’ve loved you if she’d met you.” 

“And she’d be happy to know you’ve made such good friends,” Neville said after Luna moved away from Hermione. He put his arms around Luna. “And she’d be just as proud of you as I am.” 

Luna returned the hug and nestled closer to Neville. 

“Rose would be giving you two so much grief right now,” Hermione said. “But she’d be so happy to see you two together.” 


	18. Fade in the Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the moon fades.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling owns Luna Lovegood.

Luna ran through the barrier to Platform 9¾ and passed from the Muggle world to the Wizarding one once again. The noise didn’t get any easier to bear, but the smells changed. The Muggle world always had a metallic smell to it, while the Wizarding one always smelled more of earth and wood. She wasn’t sure why; there was plenty of both sources of smells in both worlds. 

Unlike most of the students bustling about the platform, she wasn’t lugging around a cart full of trunks. Instead, she had her pack over her shoulder and Tutela by her side. Her homunculus padded along beside her, keeping an eye and ear out for trouble. And whatever other senses Rose had given her. 

Luna took another whiff of air, picking through scents for one in particular. She closed her eyes and concentrated, but with so much going on, she realized she wouldn’t be able to find his scent. 

<You can just look for the others.>

Luna rolled her eyes at Tutela. 

<That’s no fun.>

They continued forward towards the train, with Luna stopping every few steps to listen or smell for her friends. She’d gotten good at tuning out white noise, something that was necessary at every meal. When she boarded the train, the noise died down, and the smells were easier to pick up on. 

A familiar scent reached her nose, and she nearly squealed with excitement. Tutela hopped into her pack, and she walked quickly down the cars. The scent of pine grew stronger, and she could almost feel the warmth of Toad’s embrace. She felt a sense of serenity and safety wash over her as she neared the source of the smell. The scent of books and doubt accompanied it, and she knew she had the right one. 

She slid open the compartment door and found Brain and Toad sitting together. Toad’s face lit up when he saw her, and she threw herself into his arms. 

“Oh get a room!” Brain said, closing the door behind Luna before returning to her seat. 

“Well,” Toad said, “if you’d be willing to find another compartment…” 

Luna blushed as Toad’s voice trailed off. Brain rolled her eyes, but otherwise remained still. 

Luna and Toad sat down in the seat across from Brain, who took out her pack and drew a familiar journal. 

“Thanks for letting me borrow these,” she said, handing the journal back to Luna. “Your mum was brilliant! She must’ve single-handedly pushed runic studies ahead by centuries!” 

Luna blushed again and took the journal from Brain. Holding the journal brought her some comfort. It was like having a piece of her mum with her all the time. 

“Are you surprised?” Toad asked, putting his arm around Luna. 

“Not really, no,” she said, laughing. She pulled out her own notebook and flipped to a marked page. “It actually helped me on something else on which I’ve been working.” 

She showed them a runic design, and Luna immediately began putting it together in her head. It was like the runic puzzles her mum used to make and leave lying around for her to work on. 

“Erm… okay,” Toad said, furling his brow at the page. “Okay.” 

Brain opened her mouth to say something. 

“Oh!” Luna exclaimed when she’d worked it out. “That allows for telepathic communication.” 

“Erm… yeah, that’s right, actually,” Brain said, looking at her notebook again. “Did… did you already work out something on your own?” 

“No.” She pointed to one of the clusters of runes. “Those are carrier runes, which means something’s being transported.” She pointed to another one. “Those are empathy runes, which means it’s thoughts or emotions.” She pointed to the last set of runes. “That’s the key rune for the carriers, which is the special, unique rune all the nodes need, and those bind it all together.” 

“That’s right!” Brain exclaimed. “I didn’t know about the empathy runes before, but I found them in your mum’s notes. I’d already seen the carrier runes, so those were easy, and your mum explained how to bind standard and circular runes.” 

“It’s not too complicated really,” Luna said. “Can that be imprinted on a person?” 

“Sure. It’s got to be near the base of the skull.” 

“Of course, that’s the only place empathy runes work.” 

“Of course,” Toad said. 

“I’ve spent hours practicing how to draw it, and I think I’ve got it. Want to test it out when we get to school?” 

“Why not right here?” 

The train hit a bump and they all rose a little way off their seats. 

“Oh, right.” 

Luna immediately began thinking of a solution to drawing a precise rune on a moving train. 

“If only we could remove gravity in the compartment,” Brain said. “Then we’d be able to do this no problem.” 

“Which one’s gravity?” Luna asked. 

Brain held out her notebook and dropped it on the floor. 

“That one’s gravity.” She kept talking while she bent over to pick it up. “If we had some sort of neutralizing force, we could do this, but I can’t think how we would do that.” 

Luna moved to the seat with Brain in it and took out her mum’s notes. 

“Mummy’s done plenty on neutralizing forces, but mostly with incoming attacks.” 

“The basic principles should be the same.” 

Across from them, Toad drew his sword and a cloth and began to clean it. 

“Let me know if you need a test dummy,” he said. 

“Okay!” the girls said. 

They were no closer to turning off gravity when they arrived at Hogwarts. 

“That’s unfortunate,” Brain said. She tapped the page of her notebook with the telepathic rune on it. “Still, at least I’m still good for something.” 

“You can always do survival training,” Toad offered. 

Luna smiled, still excited from her work with Brain. She’d always been good at understanding runes, but never at putting them together to make something brand-new like Brain could. The most advanced feat she’d ever accomplished was the strap she’d given to Toad for the second task. If she could learn to think on her feet like Toad could, then maybe she’d be able to put something together in combat that would help, like how Brain helped them. As she was, she always got lost on the way towards putting things together. 

And that was when she did anything right. Usually, she was just the damsel in distress. Rose had to save her from the bullies her first year, then she was taken prisoner while her friends fought the Basilisk for their lives, then Rose had to save her from Ravenclaw Tower again. A few months ago Toad had to save her from Umbridge. 

“What about me?” Luna asked. “Can I come?” 

“What?” Toad laughed. “No, it’s a little much for you, Moon.” 

“Oh.” 

Luna tried not to show her disappointment. He was right, of course; it was too much for her. 

The three of them sought out an empty classroom after they arrived at Hogwarts. Luna fought off the feeling that something was odd. She didn’t know what it would’ve been, so she dismissed at as nerves. When they arrived, Luna demonstrated her ability to draw the new rune, and was thus selected as the person to draw it on her two test subjects: Toad and Brain. 

Luna had imprinted runic tattoos plenty of times before with her mum, and of course, the rune on her forehead, so she knew what to do. She tied her hair in a loose bun so it wouldn’t get in her way, drew her wand, and began muttering incantations under her breath as she drew first on Brain, then on Toad. 

“Done.” 

“Alright, let’s give it a shot,” Brain said. “Toad, you can hear me right?” 

“Sure.” 

There was silence between the two, then Brain started laughing. 

“It worked!” she exclaimed. She swept up Luna and Toad in a hug. “It worked!” After releasing them, she drew her own wand. “Alright, Moon, now—” 

“I’m going to go to bed,” Luna said quickly. She was starting to worry something was wrong, and adding a rune into the mix seemed like a bad idea. “We’ll do me tomorrow morning.” 

“Are you sure?” Toad asked. 

Luna nodded. 

“Is everything alright?” he asked. 

She wanted to tell him that something was bothering her, but she didn’t want to worry him. It would just be one more reason that he had to save her, and she was difficult enough. Brainstorming with Brain had been fun, but Toad listened to her no matter what. Even when he didn’t understand, he always believed her. She didn’t want to be a burden to him if she didn’t have to be. 

“I’m fine,” she lied. “Just tired.” 

She was certain neither Brain nor Toad believed her, but they didn’t push any harder than that. 

“Is it alright if I walk you back to Ravenclaw Tower?” he asked. He glanced back at Brain for a moment, but didn’t say anything. At least, nothing Luna could hear. She caught a familiar scent, one she’d smelled around Toad many times in the past few months. It wasn’t his normal scent, but she loved it anyway. 

“Of course.” 

She smiled, barely containing a fit of giddy laughter. She didn’t understand why, but that smell always made her feel giddy. 

The two of them walked up to Ravenclaw Tower, hand in hand. Luna nestled as close to Toad as she could without tripping over him. Given how coordinated she was, it was a lot harder than she’d have liked it. They remained silent the entire walk up, but Luna didn’t mind. She was happy just being with Toad. 

“Good night, Moon,” he told her when they arrived. 

“Good night, Toad.” 

He kissed her goodnight, and her heart soared. For that moment, she felt as if she would fly away. She walked inside, climbed up to her room, and sprawled out on her bed. For hours, all Luna did was stare at the ceiling and think of Toad and Brain. Her two best friends. She’d never really had a best friend before. She liked it a lot. 

Long after her roommates went to sleep, she felt something wrong again. With her attention back on the problem, she realized almost instantly why she recognized it. 

Someone was inside her head. Someone or something had been inside her head from the moment she’d stepped foot into Hogwarts. It sparked more familiarity, and she flipped through her new diary. Entry after entry flew by, until she found some notes she’d made at the start. 

_Something’s messing with my dreams. I can’t remember them properly._

She brought up her Occlumency shields, trying to force whatever it was out of her head, to stop it from taking her memories, but she wasn’t good at that either. Tutela picked up her head from her place at the foot of Luna’s bed. 

<Moon?>

<Something’s inside my head!>

Luna ran to the window and tried to throw it open. It didn’t budge. She looked closer. The window was locked from the outside. 

It was still in her head. 

“No,” she breathed. “No!” 

She grabbed her pack and raced down the stairs. She stopped for breath when she reached the common room. 

It was still in her head. 

“Get out!” 

She raced out of Ravenclaw Tower. Torches, portraits, ghosts, they all flew by. She ran as fast as she could, trying harder to lock down her thoughts. 

It was still in her head. 

She reached the cavity where all the floating staircases were, and looked over the edge. It was a straight drop to the ground floor. There was no faster way out of Hogwarts. 

It was still in her head. 

She took a few steps back, then leapt over the edge. Tutela jumped after her. They landed a few seconds later and sprinted towards the entrance hall. 

It was still in her head. 

* * *

Coincidentally, Sally-Anne and Ron happened to be on the ground floor that night, doing their rounds. Ron didn’t tell Sally-Anne much about his holiday, nor did she say much about hers. It was fine with her; she didn’t want to talk about it. Guilt nagged at her, as she felt like she should be asking about Ron, but she couldn’t draw up the strength to care. 

They were getting ready to return to Gryffindor Tower when they heard a crash up ahead. After a quick exchange of glances, they raced towards the source of the sound. They arrived in the floating staircase cavity just in time to see Luna and Tutela racing off down another corridor. 

“Was that Luna?” Ron asked. 

“It’s someone that’s in a lot of trouble,” Sally-Anne said. “More if it’s not, because that certainly looked like a dog.” 

The two of them chased after her. Sally-Anne had the advantage of frequent practice with the Shield Rune. She’d found it worked off some part of her cardiovascular system, which meant the more she used it, the more in shape she found herself. 

She glanced at Ron as they ran. He wasn’t slowing down either. Knowing Rose, she probably made him run a few miles for her own amusement. Then she’d have justified it with something about “run speed” and “endurance is good for you” or something. 

“Luna!” Sally-Anne called. 

Luna didn’t so much as slow down. 

“ _Accio Luna!_ ” 

Luna slowed for a moment, but Tutela grew to twice her size and shoved her forward. 

Sally-Anne tried throwing a wall in front of the Ravenclaw, but it appeared just short of them. 

_Of course. She probably knows the range by heart._

Up ahead, Luna and Tutela took a hard right through a false wall. Sally-Anne and Ron skidded to a halt. She looked around in the dark, hardly able to see a thing. 

“ _Lumos!_ ” 

Ron’s wand lit up, and he started knocking on the wall. Sally-Anne joined him, and together they found the false wall. 

“How’d she know this was here?” Sally-Anne asked. 

“Never mind that!” Ron exclaimed, sprinting through the wall. 

Sally-Anne ran after him, but they found only a short corridor. When they reached the end of it, they were back in the entrance hall, with no sign of Luna. 

“Come on!” Ron shouted, heading for the door. 

“Wait!” Sally-Anne hissed. “We can’t—” 

“Of course we can! If you didn’t hear it when Luna opened the door, then no one else will hear it when we do!” 

Ron pushed the door open, and the two of them looked out into the night. They looked around, but there was no sign of Luna. 

“She’ll have to show up tomorrow,” Sally-Anne said. “We’ll talk to her about it then.” 

They slid the door shut, taking care to be as quiet as possible. They took a moment to catch their breath, then headed back up the long walk to Gryffindor Tower. 

* * *

Neville watched the clock tick away in Gryffindor Tower, urging it to go just a little faster. There were 605 seconds left in curfew, but each one felt like it took a day. 

“If all the clocks are synchronized, I can’t get away with skipping out early,” he said to himself. “But if they’re not, I could just say the one here is running fast.” 

“What was that?” 

Neville glanced over his shoulder and saw Harry coming down from their room. 

“Nothing, just talking to myself,” he replied, keeping his attention on the clock. 

“That doesn’t help,” Harry said. “Trust me, I’ve been there.” 

“I know, it just feels like years since I’ve gotten to see her.” 

Impatience welled up in him, and it felt like he would scream. 

“How was your holiday?” Harry asked. 

“Fine,” Neville replied. “Moon, Brain, and I got together to celebrate Snowy Time.” 

“Great. I stayed with Sirius and Alavel at Grimmauld Place. The three of us plus Remus went out one night.” He laughed. “Alavel and Sirius convinced Professor Dumbledore that I needed fresh air, but Professor Dumbledore insisted that three people be there to watch me. So the four of us went out to a few pubs.” 

Neville frowned and turned to Harry. 

“Yeah, I know,” Harry said, a broad smile on his face. “It was Sirius’s idea. Alavel kept an eye on me, and Remus was miserable the whole time. Alavel insisted we go home after Sirius started talking about ‘The New Marauders’.” 

“What about you?” 

“Oh, I had a blast!” Harry said. “Sirius was plenty entertaining enough, and I’ve never really been… well, out anywhere.” 

“Is this about your little excursion?” Sally-Anne asked as she descended the stairs. “I heard all about it from Mrs. Weasley on the platform yesterday. Sirius will be lucky if he’s allowed out with you again.” 

“He’s my guardian,” Harry shot back. “It will be tricky if he’s not allowed out with me.” 

“I’m sure,” Sally-Anne said, turning to Neville. 

Her look gave him a bad feeling. Not just the glare; he was used to that. But the way she was glaring at him, as if she were doing everything she could not to cry. No, not cry, scream. 

“And you.” 

“Me?” 

“Your girlfriend gave Ron and I quite a lot of trouble last night. Bolting through the corridors like she was running from a bear.” 

“She what?” 

Neville forgot the clock and focused entirely on Sally-Anne. 

“If you two are sneaking about after curfew, I will find out, and you will be punished. I don’t care what Rose told you, but you can’t be out past curfew.” 

He opened his mouth to explain that Luna hadn’t been feeling well, that it couldn’t have been her, but thought better of it. After sizing up Sally-Anne, he determined that she wasn’t in the mood for people to correct her. 

“I’ll talk to her,” Neville said. “She’ll listen to me. It won’t happen again.” 

“It’d better not. I won’t go easy on any of you just because you’re my friends.” 

Harry muttered something Neville couldn’t understand. 

He decided he didn’t care. Turning back to the clock, he stared at it for the remaining few seconds until curfew ended. He and Sally-Anne walked to Ravenclaw Tower together, which meant it took at least twice as long as it would’ve if it’d just been him. When they arrived, they didn’t find Luna waiting for them as Neville would’ve expected. 

“She usually waits for me here,” Neville said. 

Sally-Anne grabbed the attention of one of a few of the Ravenclaw girls. 

“Have any of you seen Luna Lovegood this morning?” 

“Why would we?” 

Sally-Anne took a deep breath, making Neville even more concerned. She never got frustrated. He was aware that Sally-Anne had broken up with Viktor over the holiday, but this seemed a bit much for her. 

Searching through the departing students, he spotted Melody. 

“Melody!” He ran over to her. “Have you seen Luna?” 

“No.” She looked around. “Isn’t she out here? I thought she always waited for you.” 

“No, I can’t find her.” 

“Probably avoiding me,” Sally-Anne said. “Come on, we’ll have to find her eventually.” 

Neville had a bad feeling, both about Luna and about Sally-Anne. This wasn’t like either one of them. 

After breakfast, he grabbed Harry and had him check the map. 

“Erm… I don’t see her,” Harry said, frowning. “I mean anywhere.” 

Panic began to set in, but Neville deflected it with ease. Since the third task, he’d found that the more he panicked, the easier it was to stop. 

“She’s probably in the Room of Requirement,” Neville said. “Thanks anyway.” 

Neville and Harry checked the map a few more times that day, but there was never any sign of Luna. He and Hermione went to the Room of Requirement, but without knowing what she’d be doing, they couldn’t work out what she’d used to activate the room. 

“I should’ve imprinted her with the rune,” Hermione said. “At least then we’d be able to talk to her.” 

He nodded, not sure how that’d help. She’d still need to talk back to them, and if she’d wanted to do that, they would’ve found her. Unless she’d been taken hostage by Umbridge. He didn’t bring up that particular possibility around Hermione. They were still under orders to avoid the topic with her. She’d managed to make it through class that afternoon, but Neville was still concerned that she’d have a hard time if he mentioned the idea of Umbridge taking Luna off school grounds. 

“ _Status_ would’ve been helpful too,” Hermione said. “Some sort of automatic empathy rune. The one I made has to be triggered, but an automatic rune would gradually take energy from its bearer, so I figured it would’ve been too much to ask of people.” 

Neville nodded again, lost in his own thoughts. He hated doing nothing. Luna was out there somewhere, probably hurt, and he had to find her and help her. 

“Sally-Anne said she and Ron saw Luna running out of the castle last night,” Hermione said. “What if she never came back?” 

“Why wouldn’t she come back?” 

“I don’t know. What if… Why couldn’t she have told us what was bothering her?” 

“Cos she’s Luna. Of course, she didn’t say. It takes a lot for her to open up to people.” 

Wednesday night, after no success finding Luna, Professor Dumbledore announced at dinner that she was missing. Anyone that saw her was to report it immediately. 

Neville still sat at the Ravenclaw table. He tried to plan his next move, but people kept talking to him. They kept trying to reassure him, as if he needed reassurance. He didn’t need reassurance, he needed a plan. 

After dinner, he walked outside on the grounds. He walked along the vegetable patch, the exact path Luna always walked. As he walked, he looked for footprints, either human or animal. 

He traced her path to the Whomping Willow, hoping that he’d find her there. As with the last several times he’d tried, he found it empty. 

He stood for a moment not far from the Whomping Willow, watching people walk about in the cool winter night. It was already dark, and he could see his breath. Even then, he turned his attention towards the Forbidden Forest. If Luna had never returned to the castle, it was the most likely place she’d be. 

The wind picked up and rustled some of the trees on the edge of the forest. Their branches cast an eerie shadow in the light from Hagrid’s Hut. Neville knew the forest better than anyone. It wouldn’t be hard for him to go inside and come back before anyone noticed he was gone. He’d thought about it plenty of times that day. He’d probably have to wait until Saturday, when he could be gone for a long period of time without anyone noticing. 

“Wherever Lady Moon is, Tutela will keep her safe.” 

Neville wasn’t sure how Rose had managed to construct Alavel with a sixth sense for students about to get into trouble, but he put that sense to good use. 

“How’d you know where to find me?” 

“You’ve been to this spot four times today that Professor Hagrid has counted. He’s worried about Lady Moon too, and thought you were too interested in the idea of going into the forest.” 

“Of course.” 

Something occurred to Neville that he realized should’ve occurred to him long ago. 

“Has someone written her father?” 

“He was informed yesterday. Professor Babbling is planning to go out to visit him this weekend. She believes he will want the company.” 

Neville nodded, then imagined the inside of the forest. He could still see many of the clearings in his head. He knew the path along the river to reach the centaur camp, the entire path to and from Aragog’s nest, and how to get back to Hogwarts from anywhere inside the forest. 

“She’ll set up camp near the water so she can stay clean. She hates the feeling of grease in her hair. It’ll have to be away from the centaurs, otherwise they’ll attack her. Once she’s set up camp and established a home base, she’ll…” 

He realized he had no idea why Luna would’ve chosen the Forbidden Forest. What was she doing in there? She couldn’t have been lost; she could talk to the trees. The river could tell her the right way to go. Tutela could fly her up to the top of the trees, or just straight back to Hogwarts. Luna was still in the forest, which meant she intended to stay there. 

“What’s she doing in there that she’s got to stay there this long?” 

“I wish I could tell you the answer. I trust that she’s alright, and I suggest you do the same. My Lady Rose handcrafted Tutela to keep Lady Moon safe. She’s virtually indestructible, and can find Lady Moon no matter where she is. I understand that you’re afraid, Lord Toad, but I urge you to have faith in them.” 

Neville looked out at the forest again. Luna was somewhere inside. He didn’t know when, but he would find her. It wasn’t just about her being safe. He wanted nothing more than to see her again. 


	19. You're Gonna Go Far

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sally-Anne makes some troubling allies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter and all the lies he devises.

Sally-Anne greeted Malfoy in the dungeons, just like every Friday night. Unlike every other night, she didn’t smile at him. She still couldn’t manage a proper smile. 

“No ‘Good evening, Malfoy’?” he asked. 

“Sorry,” she said. “I was miles away.” 

They started their rounds in silence. It occurred to Sally-Anne that something was bothering Malfoy, but she couldn’t think of what. He was more impatient than normal, and that was saying something. She didn’t put much thought into it either; she had her own problems that night. 

“How was your holiday?” she asked after she found the silence unbearable. 

“None of your business!” he snapped. 

“Of course, not.” 

They walked in silence for most of the night. Towards the end of their rounds, as they were approaching the second floor, they spotted a light moving up ahead and doused their own lights. The other light bobbed up and down as it moved closer. It grew brighter, then rounded the corner as it came into view. 

It was one of the Slytherin first-years. Going by his path, Sally-Anne guessed he was on his way to the library, which likely meant the restricted section. 

Malfoy and Sally-Anne reignited their wands, and the boy froze. Like a deer starting at headlights, fear kept him rooted in place until Malfoy shouted at him. 

“You!” Malfoy stormed towards the boy, who turned and bolted. 

_Oh no. You’re not giving me this runaround too._

Five feet into a wall that sprang into existence in front of him, and Sally-Anne silently thanked him for being within range for her to do that. The boy dropped his wand, which went skidding over the ground. He scrambled to his feet, but Malfoy hit him with a full-body bind before he could recover. 

“Why shouldn’t I leave you like this for Filch to find?” Malfoy sneered. 

The boy whimpered, trying to beg for mercy with a frozen mouth. 

“Because that’d be cruel, Malfoy.” Sally-Anne broke the curse and lifted the boy to his feet. “What were you doing out of your room?” 

Before he could respond, Malfoy cut him off. 

“It doesn’t matter why!” He reached for the boy, but Sally-Anne cut _him_ off. 

“Tell me, or I give you to him,” Sally-Anne said. 

“I-I was g-going to the r-restricted section.” His eyes darted from Sally-Anne to Malfoy. “I won’t do it again! Honest! Please don’t let him hurt me! He curses us! It’s horrible!” Tears appeared in his eyes as they pleaded with Sally-Anne to release him. 

Sally-Anne caught herself before glaring at Malfoy. He was cruel, but not _that_ cruel… probably. He certainly wouldn’t dirty his hands if he could avoid it, and only lashed out at her because of their history. Why did the boy think he would? 

Or was the boy telling the truth? Was Malfoy only passable around her? That seemed even less likely. 

_Stupid Mudblood. You’ll fall for any sob story, won’t you?_

“Don’t worry,” she said, a rather mean idea forming in her head. “What’s your name?” 

“Chester.” 

“Chester, you don’t have to worry about him.” 

“Thank you,” the boy said. A bright smile formed over his face. “Thank you so much.” 

She nodded at Malfoy. “His father might work in the Ministry, but mine works in theatre. That means I’ve seen plenty of good and bad acting in my life.” 

The boy’s smile faded. 

“Yours needs work,” Sally-Anne said. She took a step back. “He’s all yours, Malfoy.” 

Malfoy grabbed the boy and dragged him back to Slytherin Dungeon. He wriggled and squirmed, pleading with Sally-Anne the entire way. 

“Please! You don’t know what he’s like! He’ll make me eat dirt! Or–” 

“Malfoy, would you mind?” Sally-Anne nodded to the boy. “I’d love some peace and quiet.” 

“You and me, both,” Malfoy replied. He put Chester in another full-body bind, giving them quiet until they reached the Dungeons. 

“Now, if memory serves, we’re close to your common room,” Sally-Anne said. “So I’m going to leave you two alone for a few minutes.” The boy’s eyes went wide, and he started grunting and screaming through a closed mouth. 

Sally-Anne walked up to Chester and looked him straight in the eye. 

“Do remember, Chester, that I make no exceptions. I’m not just a pretty face; I’m Sally-Anne Perks. I used to be friends with Rose Peta-Lorrum, who, as I’m sure you’ve heard, was mad. So what do you think that makes me?” 

She stood while Malfoy dragged the boy around a corner and out of sight. Sally-Anne took a moment to look at the Dungeons. Something was eerily familiar about them. She didn’t think she’d spent enough time in the Dungeons to find any of it familiar. Then she figured it out. 

“What is it, Perks?” 

“Nothing.” She snapped back to reality and smiled at Malfoy. “I hope you didn’t make him eat too much dirt.” 

Malfoy wrinkled his nose in disgust as Sally-Anne’s smile widened. 

“He’s lucky he got off easy this time,” Malfoy spat. “How dare he spread lies about me like that?!” 

“I think that was more for me than for you. He was hoping I’d let him off, I think.” 

Malfoy smirked at her, an expression Sally-Anne attempted to return. 

“Was that legilimency you used?” 

Sally-Anne froze, feeling like he’d once again got a foothold on her. 

“I don’t know what that is,” Sally-Anne lied. 

“You stared into his eyes and happened to know he was lying.” 

“Oh!” 

Relief washed over her, but she was careful to show as little of it as possible. She remained composed, easing her body language back to normal. 

“No, of course not. Like I said, I’ve spent a lot of time around actors and actresses. It’s good fun, really, but it helps you spot when someone’s lying.” 

“So does spending time around politicians,” Malfoy muttered. Louder, he added, “Don’t worry, Perks. I won’t tell anyone that you can read minds.” 

“Because you keeping my secrets went so well last time.” 

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop herself. She froze in the corridor again and drew a sharp breath. 

“I didn’t mean that.” 

Sally-Anne expected Malfoy to be offended. She expected him to lash out, but one look at his face reminded her with whom she was speaking. Instead of yelling, Malfoy started laughing. 

“Of course you did. Honestly Perks, I’m impressed. You’re cunning and vindictive. Well done.” 

Sally-Anne couldn’t tell if Malfoy was being sarcastic or honest, but in the spirit of cooperation, she chose honesty. 

“Thank you, Malfoy. I’m glad to know my efforts haven’t gone to waste.” 

Malfoy and Sally-Anne continued their rounds in silence. They scoured the first and second floors for anyone out of their rooms for another half hour before returning to the Dungeons. Once again, Sally-Anne’s eyes fell on the wall near the common room, but she blocked it out of her mind. 

“Good night, Malfoy,” she said, as pleasantly as she could muster. 

He nodded to her, then opened his mouth to speak. 

“I can’t stand Parkinson. Unlike you, I haven’t got a choice.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “What do you think I mean? Everyone knew you and Krum were finished before the holiday was over. It was in the _Daily Prophet_.” 

Sally-Anne gave him a smile she knew was crooked. She refused to allow herself to look any more downcast than that. 

“Of course. How silly of me.” 

“I wish I could just be done with her. You’ve got no idea what she’s like. And I thought Granger was insufferable. Parkinson’s never had a worthwhile thought in her life. It’s all mindless chatter that doesn’t mean anything.” 

“Why not just break up with her?” Sally-Anne asked. 

“Because it doesn’t work like that in my world,” Malfoy said. “I’m the heir to the Malfoy estate. That means I’ve got to marry another pureblood to advance the family status. Keep the bloodline pure. The Parkinson family’s high-ranking enough, so our parents set us up.” 

Sally-Anne frowned. 

“I don’t recall them being that high-ranking,” she said. “Your family’s at the top, but I recall Greengrass and Weasley at least are higher up than Parkinson.” 

Malfoy raised an eyebrow then scoffed at her. 

“What do you know?” 

“I loved learning about the Muggle aristocracy, so I thought I’d learn more about the wizarding one,” Sally-Anne replied. “My memory’s not nearly as good as Hermione’s is, but I can certainly remember enough of it. The Parkinson family isn’t the only option, nor is it the best one. If it’s power you want–” 

“Don’t lecture me on how it all works!” Malfoy snapped. 

“Of course,” Sally-Anne said. “Just trying to help.” 

“I don’t want your help!” 

“What do you want, then?” 

Malfoy opened his mouth, but no sound escaped. He closed it after a moment, then glared back at her. 

“No one cares what I want,” he said. “It’s just what’s best for the family name. Apparently, what’s best for the family name is that I spend the rest of my life with an insufferable, incompetent tramp!” 

“I care.” 

“Yeah,” Malfoy scoffed. “You and Dobby.” 

“Who’s Dobby?” 

“Our house-elf.” 

Sally-Anne nodded. “Like you’ve said to me: Stop whining and do something about it.” She curtsied to him. “Good night, Malfoy.” 

With that, Sally-Anne turned around and headed back up to Gryffindor Tower. As she left that corridor, she swore she heard something that sounded like “Good night, Perks.” 

* * *

Sally-Anne walked calmly through the castle. It was odd; three years ago, she’d been afraid of Malfoy. He’d nearly killed her, and now it felt like he was one of her friends. They couldn’t be friends; he’d never allow it. 

She tapped on the Fat Lady’s portrait to wake her up, a useful trick she’d learned from Angelina, then spoke the password to get access to Gryffindor Tower. Inside, she found quite a sight. 

Twelve books, a bookcase, two armchairs, and a few fireplace pokers were enacting some sort of dance number. At least, that’s what it looked like to her. They’d twirl around, leap into the air, and sometimes even land on one another. The armchairs tossed the pokers back and forth, twirling them in the air, while the books circled around the bookcase. Some of the bricks on the walls had been transfigured into something that looked like a gramophone, which played quiet music. 

At the heart of it was none other than Ron. He waved his wand and directed the organized madness, occasionally animated another part of the room. A book floated beside him. Every so often, he’d wave his wand to turn the page, then return to his theatre of mayhem. 

“Ron?” 

“Oh, hello, Princess.” He grinned at her. “I’m just practicing.” 

“For what? Broadway?” 

“What’s Broadway?” 

“It’s…” Sally-Anne considered explaining musical theatre to Ron, then thought better of it. He wasn’t his father, but given how hard he was trying to be his mother, she couldn’t be sure that he wouldn’t launch into some strange discussion about Muggles. “Never mind. I appreciate that you were considerate before playing music in the common room at two in the morning.” She gave his antics another look. “Although, I’m still curious as to _why_ you felt the need to do all this.” 

“Because I can! Mum got me this brilliant book for Christmas! I think she wrote it herself. It’s got tons of spells for animation, without all the boring theory behind it. I’ve really learned a lot from it. It’s way better than any of the stuff McGonagall teaches us.” 

“It looks exactly like some of the spells Professor McGonagall’s taught us.” 

“Maybe, but this is way more fun!” 

Sally-Anne couldn’t help but laugh. Not at Ron, but at how much fun he was having. She envied him a little; life was a lot easier for him than it was for her. 

Then something else occurred to her, and she started crying under the weight of it. 

“Sally-Anne!” 

The circle of weirdness parted for Ron, and he rushed to her side. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“That was the first time I’ve laughed since coming back.” She dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief and straightened herself up. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you. You were having so much fun.” 

“If you’d like, I can teach you,” he said. “I’m better than Harry at teaching summoning.” 

Sally-Anne smiled, hoping she was encouraging him through the mess she’d made of herself. 

“Not tonight, but I’d love to join you.” Her smile broadened and felt more genuine. “I’ve always loved going to the theatre.” 

Ron looked away for a moment and started stammering. His face turned the faintest shade of red. 

“Ron, are you alright?” 

“Fine!” he exclaimed, a little louder than she’d have liked. 

Sally-Anne paused for a moment to listen for anyone shouting for them to keep it down, but she suspected the rest of the tower — save their friends — was fast asleep. When she was confident of that, she peeked inside Ron’s mind for just a moment. 

_I’m not trying to impress her. She just gave me the idea, that’s all!_

“I’ve got an idea,” Ron said. “If you can make platforms with your Shield Rune, I can practice moving them around while they’re moving.” 

“That’s a brilliant idea. I can’t remember the last time I practiced using the rune. It’ll be good for both of us.” 

They got to work with practice, Sally-Anne using her rune, and Ron using animation. It was harder at first, much like the first time she’d used it. Using it was like using a muscle; it just took practice to get used to it again. Then there was the additional complication of moving the shields around, something she couldn’t even remember doing. Sustaining the shields was hard work, and it took a few tries to figure out how to move them. 

“That’s brilliant!” Ron exclaimed when she got one moving. 

She blushed and her stomach knotted for a moment. After she’d calmed down, hushed Ronald, and reassured herself that no one was bothered by them, she smiled. 

“Thank you. Not just for this, but… I suppose for reminding me how to have fun.” 

“Erm… you’re welcome?” 

“You should thank your mum for that book.” 

“I don’t know how she knew I wanted it. I hadn’t told her that I was trying to learn animation, I only told…” His eyes narrowed and he turned to her. “It was you, wasn’t it?” 

“You certainly weren’t going to tell her.” She motioned to the room full of animated objects. “Besides, look how well it turned out.” 

Ron scowled at her, reminding her a little of Malfoy. For two people that hated each other, they weren’t all that different. 

“I guess it turned out alright.” 

Sally-Anne’s face fell into a look of scepticism. 

“Nonsense. I’ve never seen you so happy. Admit it: You’re glad I told her.” 

Ron glanced back at his army of animation, then back to Sally-Anne. 

“Fine.” 

“Thank you. Now please, do remember to thank your mother. She’ll be thrilled to know you’ve got such talent at animation.” 

Ron shrugged. “I’m not that good at it, it’s just easy. I’m sure—” 

“Or you’ve got natural talent. You’ve got a series of objects that you can move about the room, and you can make more as you go. You’ve always had the strategy, now you’ve got pieces.” She smiled at him as warmly as she could manage. “You should be proud of yourself, Ron.” 

She was surprised to see him blush and worried for a moment that she’d gone too far with her complements. The last thing she wanted was to make Ron fall in love with her. She was perfectly happy on her own, without another boy to treat her as if she were made of glass. Besides, she’d seen the way Lavender looked at Ron, and knew she was keen on him. 

After deciding that Ron wasn’t going to say anything, she decided she would. 

“Anyway, let’s get back to what we were doing.” She conjured a shield, and one of Ron’s new minions hopped onto it. 

* * *

Saturday afternoon, when Sally-Anne had some time to herself, she slipped away from the crowds of people and headed up to Professor Umbridge’s office. As always, it was covered in pink and kitten pictures. For such an otherwise professional woman, Sally-Anne found it odd that she’d decorate her office in such a way. 

“Professor, have you got a moment?” she asked after politely knocking on the door. 

“Ms. Perks.” Umbridge’s analytical smile adorned her face. “Do come in.” 

Sally-Anne curtsied then took a seat in a waiting chair. 

A teapot and a pair of cups walked over to Umbridge. The teapot poured some tea in one cup, which walked over to Umbridge. 

“Would you like some tea?” she asked, indicating the other cup. 

“No thank you. I’m not planning to stay long, I just wanted to properly thank you for your help last month. Even… if it didn’t go well for me, I couldn’t have got there without you.” 

“You’re quite welcome.” She arched her eyebrows and frowned. “I am so sorry to hear about Mr. Krum. It’s such a tragedy when children are struck with such awful luck.” 

Sally-Anne thought back to the hospital. Her stomach curled into knots at the thought of it. So many strong people, torn down by a stroke of bad luck. 

“Did they catch that awful man?” Umbridge asked. 

“Not as far as I know,” Sally-Anne said. “I tried asking around what people I know in the DMLE, but they said it’s being handled in Bulgaria, not here, so they can’t do anything about it.” 

A sinking feeling threatened to pull her through the floor, but she kept her back straight and her posture as it should’ve been. 

“Such a shame, although probably for the best.” 

Sally-Anne came out of her daze and focused on Umbridge. 

“I’m sorry?” 

“I’m afraid the Department of Magical Law Enforcement has been rather busy lately. So many people sending word of what they believe to be attacks by Death Eaters. It’s hard to get any real work done with all of it.” 

“I’m sure.” 

Sally-Anne frowned. She had a point. If not for the Dementors on the grounds two years ago, Rose’s attention would’ve been on finding Sirius, and the whole fiasco would’ve been avoided. 

“You understand, don’t you Ms. Perks?” Umbridge asked. 

She fixated her gaze on Sally-Anne, making the girl a little nervous. 

“If the Ministry is wasting all its time with these stories and lies, how will it ever keep what happened to poor Mr. Krum from happening here?” 

“They can’t,” Sally-Anne said slowly. “It’ll be chaos. Innocent people will get hurt.” 

“Precisely. People must understand that Dumbledore is lying. For their own good.” 

Thoughts of people struck down like Viktor had crept into her head. Luna was missing; could the Ministry send someone out to find her? Neville was so fixated on doing it himself, that Sally-Anne was sure he’d never considered letting the Ministry send in trained professionals to handle it. With their resources tied up in dealing with rumors about Voldemort, how were they to spare anyone? 

Except she knew Voldemort was back. Harry had told her, and… he wouldn’t have lied, would he? 

“But what if he’s not? What if He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named really is back from the dead?” 

“Do you believe what your friends have told you?” Umbridge asked after another sip of tea. “About He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named being back from the dead?” 

“Of course. They’re my friends. They wouldn’t lie to me like that.” 

“So they’ve never lied to you about anything?” 

Sally-Anne paused as her stomach formed into a small knot. Her friends had lied to her before. Rose had lied to them all the time. Harry had knowingly cheated at Quidditch, which she thought he would’ve held as sacred. If Rose really had killed herself, Hermione would never believe it. 

“Remember, Ms. Perks, it’s impossible to bring back the dead. Perhaps you should ask yourself which is more likely: That someone did the impossible, or that your not so trustworthy friends have lied to you.” 

Sally-Anne nodded her understanding, although her mind was far away in thought. She couldn’t argue with Umbridge’s question, nor the obvious conclusion. 

“I think your time and efforts are best spent worrying about your own students.” Umbridge smiled and sipped her tea. “Ms. White has seen fit to earn herself detention with me this week.” 

“Of course she has,” Sally-Anne sighed. “If she put half the effort into studying that she does into putting her nose where it doesn’t belong, she’d be the top student at Hogwarts.” She returned her attention to Umbridge. “Sorry, I was talking to myself. After she serves detention, I’ll ensure that it sticks this time.” 

“I’m sure you will.” Umbridge took another sip of tea. “I’ve got something to ask of you. I’ve seen that there are problems within this school, problems that Dumbledore is clearly ignoring. I want to be certain that the problems are real, though. Unlike Dumbledore, I will wait until I have solid proof before jumping to conclusions.” 

Sally-Anne nodded, glad that someone understood the value of having hard evidence. 

“I’ve looked at the students here, and based on what I’ve seen, you are one of a handful I can trust to evaluate the staff here.” 

“That’s very kind of you.” 

Umbridge reached into her desk and pulled out a large envelope. 

“You also seem to have a unique ability to know everything that goes on inside this school.” 

Sally-Anne smiled modestly. “I just talk to people, that’s all.” 

Umbridge handed her the envelope. 

“In here are evaluation rubrics for each class. I’d like you to evaluate those you can, and see what you can find out about the others.” 

Sally-Anne frowned. What Umbridge was asking her to do sounded an awful lot like spying. 

“To what end?” 

“The Ministry handles the criteria for the O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. level exams. I want to ensure that the students here are getting the education they should be getting.” 

Sally-Anne slid some of the papers out of the envelope. Sure enough, it was just as Umbridge had said: evaluation rubrics, specifically focusing on the official Ministry exams. 

“I’ll see what I can find out,” Sally-Anne said, slipping the envelope into her pack. 

“I’m sure you will,” Umbridge said. “That will be all. Please do give all my words the thought they need.” 

Sally-Anne nodded, then excused herself. As she left Umbridge’s office, Umbridge’s words came back to her. 

_So they’ve never lied to you about anything?_

She drifted through the corridors, giving the words more and more thought. The stone walls of Hogwarts faded away in her mind, leaving the common room in their place. 

Rose would’ve appeared in the middle of the common room, ensuring that people found her. She always did like attention. Without the opportunity to show off that the Triwizard Tournament provided her, she would’ve realized she’d be left behind. Ron and Hermione had been together, and it had always been Hermione’s attention Rose wanted. By then, Neville had gotten over his feelings for her, maybe even moved on to Luna. If Rose had seen that, then she would’ve realized that the three people about whom she cared the most were moving on. It wasn’t a far stretch from there to suicide, given her typical mental state. 

Sally-Anne shook her head, and the scene of Rose appearing in the common room faded. It left too many problems. Hermione wouldn’t have accepted it fast enough to have time to devise a lie and convince the other two about it. Ron wouldn’t have lied about it unless Harry and Hermione insisted, and Harry wouldn’t have lied about it at all. Unless… 

Unless it had all been Harry’s idea in the first place. But if he’d devised the lie, then Hermione would’ve called him out immediately. Which meant she didn’t know what was going on either. It was all down to Harry. 

Harry had snuck out after the Triwizard Tournament. He’d later told them that he’d been with Ellie, and that’d they’d been attacked. They’d never been punished for being out together, which Sally-Anne thought was an oversight on the part of the professors, but given the circumstances, she’d said nothing. 

Unless that had been the entire point. If the two of them had been out getting up to no good, and stumbled upon Rose, they’d have panicked. Harry knew about the plan to capture him, and still had the black gem on him. There’d been no sign that Ellie had ever been out of bed. 

The corridors faded away again and left the Forbidden Forest in their wake. Sally-Anne saw Harry and Ellie stumble upon Rose’s body. Ellie would’ve panicked, but Harry would’ve stayed relatively calm, especially if he were trying to act tough to show off for Ellie. The plan would’ve been all his own. First, he’d have told Ellie to run back to the castle. He had a lot of the secret passages memorized, so he would’ve known one she could’ve taken back inside the castle, especially if they’d taken one out of it. 

He’d have given her twenty minutes, which lined up with the actual timing of the events, muddying himself up in the meantime. Once he was confident she’d had the time to return to her bed, he would’ve grabbed Rose’s body and crushed the gem. 

His next biggest move took courage: outing the reason he was outside in the first place, knowing no one would’ve cared. If they’d told the truth about what they were doing without involving Voldemort, there was a distinct possibility of one or both of them being expelled. Sirius wouldn’t have minded _as much_ as Ellie’s parents, but her parents certainly wouldn’t have wanted her in Hogwarts if she were going to be sneaking out of her room at night with a boy. 

Sirius might have scolded Harry, then given him a thumbs up when Sally-Anne and Alavel weren’t looking. 

“Sirius, you’re a horrible parent,” Sally-Anne muttered to herself. “Grow up.” 

With Harry telling them about Voldemort, everyone would’ve been too distracted to worry about Harry and Ellie being out in the forest after dark. Only the house heads and Professor Dumbledore knew about that detail at all. 

Judging by the way Ellie had been acting, she didn’t feel comfortable with the lie. She must’ve said as much to Harry, who must’ve tried to convince her otherwise. It explained why they hadn’t officially gotten back together. She’d agreed to her silence, but hated every second of it. She couldn’t tell the truth, or she risked being judged for what she’d been doing. 

So that’s what it came down to: a lie forged so two teenagers would get away with sneaking around. And only one person that might be willing to tell the truth. 

Sally-Anne drifted down the corridors in a daze. She didn’t know where she’d find Ellie, nor if she’d be able to find her that day. She certainly couldn’t ask Harry; if she wasn’t careful, he’d get to her first and ruin everything. So Sally-Anne bided her time, waiting for dinner. 

Sure enough, Ellie was at the Hufflepuff table. It was a little sad to see her the way she was. She made no efforts to reach out to anyone. Sally-Anne felt alone just watching her. 

Sally-Anne excused herself when she saw Ellie leaving. With no way of knowing where Ellie would go, Sally-Anne had to move quickly to ensure she didn’t lose her. 

“Ellie!” 

As she’d expected, Ellie picked up her pace when she heard Sally-Anne’s voice. She didn’t even turn around. 

_Oh no you don’t!_

Using Ellie’s footsteps as a guide, Sally-Anne kept pace with the Hufflepuff. 

“Ellie, I just want to talk to you!” 

Ellie ducked down another corridor in her efforts to lose Sally-Anne, but Sally-Anne was determined. If anyone would tell her the truth, it was Ellie. 

Sally-Anne finally got close enough to throw up a wall and stop Ellie. 

Ellie slammed her fists on the wall in frustration, then turned to glare at Sally-Anne. 

“ _The moment you drop that, I’m going to run. Harry told me you can’t hold it forever, but I can stay quiet. I can always stay quiet._ ” 

“Then I’ll talk fast,” Sally-Anne said. 

Her hand shook with the strain of maintaining the wall. 

“What happened the night Rose died?” 

Ellie’s mouth didn’t move, but Sally-Anne didn’t need it to. She’d anticipated Ellie not being cooperative. 

_Why can’t everyone leave me alone? I don’t know!_

“You tell everyone that you don’t know, but I think you’re keeping a secret for Harry’s sake. I think it’s eating you up inside, and that’s why you’ve been so troubled this year.” 

Ellie held her glare on Sally-Anne. Her eyes were fixed on Sally-Anne’s hand. Beads of sweat rolled down Sally-Anne’s face, but she kept her focus on her task. 

_Everyone calls me a liar! I didn’t do anything!_

Sally-Anne took a chance and lowered the wall. She felt light-headed and nearly fell over. 

“You really don’t know what happened, do you?” she panted. 

“ _Of course I don’t! I’m just the stupid mute girl that doesn’t know anything!_ ” 

The slightest pang of guilt mixed in with her faintness when she saw the tears in Ellie’s eyes. 

“Ellie, I’m sorry.” 

“ _No you’re not! No one cares about me anymore! No one cares about my feelings! Not you! Not Harry! Not Max! Nobody!_ ” 

Sally-Anne struggled to keep her posture, and once again realized that it’d been a while since she’d practiced the shield consistently. 

_Should fix that._

“If you talk to Harry, I’m sure—” 

“ _Harry?! Harry doesn’t believe me either! I asked him that morning if he wanted to talk. I…_ ” Her hands hung in the air, but she froze. After wiping tears from her eyes, she continued. “ _He asked me what I was doing. What I did! I didn’t do anything! I was in bed all night! But he doesn’t believe me! He’d rather have a good laugh about the stupid mute girl with you or Chang!_ ” 

Ellie’s face was red with anger. Sally-Anne realized that the girl had lost far too much weight over the past few months, and that her hands shook. Ellie’s hands had never shaken while she’d been with Harry. He mentioned once how difficult it would’ve been to understand her if they had, and he wasn’t one to miss details. 

Sally-Anne decided the truth wasn’t important. Ellie wasn’t involved, but she was in pain. 

“Ellie, are you alright?” Sally-Anne asked, taking a step forward. 

“ _I’m fine!_ ” 

Ellie backed away, then broke into a full sprint away from Sally-Anne. Sally-Anne took a few steps forward, then realized she needed to rest before she overworked herself. 

She took a rest in an empty classroom, and took the opportunity to review what she’d just learned. 

Whatever was going on, Ellie had no part in it. She honestly didn’t know what had happened that night. If she wasn’t there, then what had happened? Had Harry just been sneaking off in the middle of the night alone? Had Rose called on Harry of all people to bring the news of her death? 

Why go through all that trouble? Why hadn’t Harry just said what really happened? 

The only reason Harry would’ve lied was if the truth caused problems for him. What if he had gone out to meet Ellie? If Rose had been involved in sneaking them out, then Hermione would’ve been involved as well. Rose could only communicate through Hermione, which meant Hermione knew too. 

Stricken with grief, Hermione wouldn’t have been thinking straight. If Harry had mentioned a loose end in his lie, Hermione would’ve seen to it that the end was tied up. 

Harry and Hermione were in on it together. They were the only two that knew the truth and had convinced everyone else of the lie. Hermione must’ve wiped Ellie’s memory to ensure she’d never talk. 

Knowing Hermione’s current state, it wasn’t a stretch to believe that even Hermione herself believed their lie. Once she realized it, Hermione would see the light. She’d shatter the lie once she understood the damage it had done. 

Which left Sally-Anne with the question of how to convince Hermione. No, it wasn’t up to her. If Sally-Anne wasn’t careful, she’d end up like Ellie. She didn’t know who she could trust. 

_I’ll keep it to myself. I’m already at risk. If either of them find out I was talking to Ellie, I’ll be in trouble. I’ve just got to watch my back and trust no one._


	20. Let Loose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which someone gets bad news, but Neville gets good news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** In many of their prophecies, the stars also indicate that J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter.

February rolled around, and Sally-Anne found herself surrounded by pink once again. While Umbridge’s office didn’t hold the same comforting familiarity of Professor Babbling’s, it didn’t hold the same hostility within it that it did for the rest of her friends. It also served to drown out the frustrating gloating of Slytherin about their victory over Ravenclaw. Sally-Anne was pleased that she never caught Draco rubbing it in. After all, she expected better of him. 

“Tea?” Umbridge offered her, as always. 

“No, thank you,” Sally-Anne said politely. 

Umbridge gave a little chuckle and withdrew her hands. 

“You’re going to have to accept the tea one day, Ms. Perks.” 

Umbridge smiled at her with a calculated smile Sally-Anne had come to expect. 

Sally-Anne matched her smile, and delivered her response in a similarly calculated tone. 

“Mum says never to accept food or drink from an individual you didn’t see prepared.” 

Umbridge paused for a moment, then said, “Hm.” After taking a sip of her own tea, she brought them to business. 

“Anything to report?” 

“A bit, but like I said last time we met, anyone taking the classes already are probably taking them because they wanted to be in that class. Therefore, they aren’t likely to say anything bad about the professors.” 

“And the classes you don’t want to take?” 

“They’re all core classes. I think Professor Snape could be nicer to everyone, and not blatantly favor Slytherin over Gryffindor, but he’s knowledgeable about the subject matter. I’d say it’s certainly up to where it needs to be. I think all the core classes are.” 

Umbridge made a note on a piece of parchment on her desk. 

“And the electives?” 

“Going by the criteria you gave me, I’d say both Ancient Runes and Care for Magical Creatures are where they need to be.” 

Sally-Anne handed assessments she’d drawn up for each of her classes. 

Umbridge took them and scanned them over. The only one to which she paid any real attention was Care for Magical Creatures. 

“I took the liberty and talked with students from the other classes: Arithmancy, Divination, and Muggle Studies. I think Professor Vector is teaching her class right, and Professor Burbage is up to it as well.” 

Umbridge looked up from the papers, a faint smile spreading over her face. 

“And Divination? What of Trelawney?” 

“I’ve got a lot of mixed reviews about her,” Sally-Anne said, taking out the notes she’d made. “Two students with whom I spoke said it’s their favorite class, and touched on some of the points you said she needed to. Another mentioned a few points.” _Although Neville isn’t easy to talk to about anything apart from Luna these days._ “Another few students gave me some more, but it looks like she’s lacking in some areas, and favoring others. Everyone I talked to says she spends all her time on the assisted fortune-telling portion, but little on anything else.” 

She looked up at Umbridge, whose smile had grown broader. Sally-Anne chose to ignore it, but did bring up more. 

“According to your evaluation rubric, there’s more to Divination than simple fortune-telling. Anything that can’t be applied, she ignores. For instance, I didn’t even realize learning about the various forms of clairvoyance was supposed to be taught. Or understanding the possible ways to trigger a vision. Anything purely theory-based is just glossed over.” 

Sally-Anne hadn’t truly understood the problems that Professor Trelawney was causing for her students until then. There was no way any of them would be able to pass the O.W.L.s in June, not unless they scored perfectly on everything they were being taught. 

“Now that I think about it, that’s awful for the students. Neville, Parvati, and Lavender aren’t especially good at school as it is. It would be disastrous if they were unable to progress simply because their teacher didn’t teach them properly.” 

“So you understand what must be done?” 

“Someone should talk to Professor Trelawney and convince her to teach them the way she’s supposed to be teaching them. It’s no wonder so few students from Hogwarts do well on the O.W.L.s in Divination. I always thought it was because no one cared.” 

Umbridge made another note of her own, then accepted Sally-Anne’s assessment of the final three courses. 

“You’ve mentioned before that Professor Vector allowed a student to take Arithmancy two years ahead.” 

“Yes, that’s Hermione Granger. She scored higher on the current version of the Arithmancy O.W.L. than almost anyone else in history.” 

“So it would seem.” 

“Hermione’s brilliant, and she loves Arithmancy. She passed the third-year final exam in her first year. Sure, she’s been a little… off since Rose died, but I think she earned her spot in that class.” 

Umbridge made another note, then returned to one of Sally-Anne’s formal assessments. Sally-Anne caught some familiar notes and knew the topic was to be changed to Care for Magical Creatures. 

“And Hagrid?” 

Sally-Anne noted in her head that Umbridge never said “professor” before Trelawney, McGonagall, and Hagrid, but did before Vector. 

“Professor Hagrid is doing well. As I noted, I went through everything he’s taught my class in the past two years, and, even for a new professor, he’s covering everything he should be covering. I’m not always thrilled about going out into the Forbidden Forest, given what’s out there, but if that’s where we need to go to learn, then that’s what we’ll do.” 

“He takes students into the Forbidden Forest?” 

The calculating smile had returned to Umbridge’s face. Sally-Anne realized that she was using that to keep her actual reactions in check, something Sally-Anne herself did. 

_She could be a little less smug with it._

“Not far, nor does he let any of us stray. There’s plenty of wildlife in the forest, and he wants us to know how to identify it, as we’re supposed to be learning. Working directly with the animals has a much better—” 

“I’m not questioning his abilities as a teacher, I’m questioning whether you’re learning what you’re supposed to be learning.” 

“I just said that. We are.” 

Umbridge made another note. 

“And he keeps you all safe?” 

“Yes.” 

She made a final few notes, then sorted the assessments and placed them in her desk. 

“On that note, what do you know of the Forbidden Forest?” 

“We’ve been told about a lot of the wildlife there. Thestrals, acromantulas, centaurs—” 

“There are centaurs living in the forest?” 

“I’ve never seen them, but Harry and Ginny did during the earthquake a few years ago.” 

“We can’t have that, now can we?” 

Sally-Anne frowned, not understanding the point. 

“What do you mean?” 

“What’s to stop these creatures from leaving the forest and coming onto the school grounds?” 

She reserved judgment until Umbridge had made her entire case, but even then, she was getting a bad feeling. 

“Nothing.” 

“Precisely the problem, Ms. Perks. Centaurs have a documented history of aggression towards humans.” 

Sally-Anne thought back to what she’d learned from Neville about the Forbidden Forest. One of the rules of the forest was to stay away from the centaurs. She didn’t know all the details, but she knew he’d had some sort of problem with them on his first day in the forest. 

“I suppose they do. I hadn’t thought about it.” 

“Neither, I’m sure, has Dumbledore.” She smiled reassuringly at Sally-Anne. “There’s no need to worry. I’ll see to it myself that it’s taken care of. That will be all.” 

“Have a nice day, professor.” 

“And same to you, Ms. Perks.” 

* * *

The shrieks of agony caught Sally-Anne’s attention. Cries like that were only uttered when someone was in distress. That sound told her that she was needed somewhere, so she followed it as quickly as she could. 

It was almost March. With the upcoming match between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor, she wanted nothing more than to have something to take her mind off it. Harry hadn’t spoken a word to her in such a long time. Although, truth be told, Sally-Anne was nervous about talking to him or Hermione. There was no telling what they’d do to her if they knew what she knew. 

The screams in question weren’t coming from a student, but a professor. Nothing about the scene of Professor Umbridge ushering Professor Trelawney out the door surprised her. She’d known it was coming. Trelawney had received fair warning that she needed to change her curriculum or else. She hadn’t listened. 

Trelawney held her hands close to her face, her back hunched over. Her hands wouldn’t stop trembling. She looked so miserable, but it was her own fault. 

Sally-Anne moved through the forming crowd easily, most people happy to move aside for her. 

“B-but Hogwarts is my home,” Trelawney said. “Where am I supposed to go?” 

“You should’ve given that more thought by now,” Umbridge said. “You must’ve known this was coming.” 

Sally-Anne noticed a pair of trunks that sat between the two women. She figured they must’ve been Trelawney’s, especially after the way she reacted when Umbridge began moving them towards the door. 

“No! Please!” 

“You’ve been sacked,” Umbridge said without a trace of sympathy. If anything, she sounded pleased as she waved a letter at Trelawney. “Your marching orders are right here, signed and sealed by the Minister himself. You can’t expect to stay in the castle any longer, can you?” 

Trelawney looked like she would fall to her knees any moment. Tears were visible on her face, and she could barely speak between sobs. 

Sally-Anne heard some students starting to cry themselves. She didn’t bother to look; they didn’t understand, but they would. When they learned what they needed to know, what they should’ve been learning for years, they’d understand, and then they’d be thankful. It was unfortunate that Trelawney was being sacked, but such were the consequences of people ignoring orders. 

One of the shawls fell from Trelawney’s shoulders. She fell to the ground to pick it up, but she dissolved into a blithering mess before she put it back on. 

A figure stepped out of the crowd and draped the shawl back over her shoulders for her. 

“It will be alright, Sybill,” Alavel said kindly. With an arm around the former professor, he helped her to her feet. “We’ll find a place for you. If not here, then not far.” 

“But this is all I’ve got!” Trelawney sobbed. “Where am I supposed to go?” 

Professor McGonagall stepped out of the crowd and joined Alavel at Trelawney’s side. 

“We’ll take care of it, Sybill. We’ll spare someone to keep you company until then.” 

“That won’t be necessary.” 

Instead of pushing through the crowd, it parted for Professor Dumbledore. He stood with Alavel, McGonagall, and Trelawney, but kept his attention on Umbridge. 

“Sybill, you may keep your current arrangements here. You needn’t leave.” 

“Dumbledore,” Umbridge said, her smile unwavering, “might I remind you that according to Educational Decree—” 

“I’m aware of the decree,” Dumbledore said. “It gives you the right to sack any member of my staff you feel is unfit. While I accept that, and have been nothing but cooperative with your inquisition, I’ll remind you that you do not have the authority to remove my staff, nor anyone else for that matter, from the grounds. That power rests with me and me alone.” 

Umbridge turned her smile at Dumbledore. 

“For now. But don’t you think that her replacement will need those quarters?” 

“Not at all. I believe he would rather stay on the ground floor.” 

That caught Umbridge off guard. Her neutral, slightly unnerving smile turned to a frowned. 

“According to—” 

“Yes, I’m aware of all your rules, Madame Undersecretary. Even the clause that says I have 24 hours to find a replacement, or one will be chosen for me. I just so happened to find one this morning.” 

Sally-Anne frowned, confused as to how Professor Dumbledore had managed to find a replacement so soon. Sally-Anne had only just found out about it. Umbridge wouldn’t have told anyone, lest she risk Dumbledore finding an ill-suited replacement. Sally-Anne knew Rose had trusted Dumbledore, and she herself did as well. He was good at teaching and getting through to students, but that didn’t necessarily make him good at running a school. He couldn’t just go about allowing professors to teach whatever they wanted, ignorant of the proper guidelines. 

“Really?” Umbridge said. “Well, where is he?” 

Right on cue, the doors flung open and Trelawney’s replacement strode in. His hooves clicked on the stone floor. He stood at least seven feet tall, probably more. 

“Might I introduce Firenze,” Dumbledore said, motioning to the centaur entering the school. “I think you’ll find him most suitable.” 

Sally-Anne couldn’t believe her eyes. Dumbledore had chosen a _centaur_ to teach the students. 

* * *

Neville had begun with two ideas of Divination: everything Rose had told him, and what Percy had told him, in that it didn’t involve much use of a wand. So he’d signed up for it. What he’d found had been far more disappointing than what Rose had described. It was all crystal balls, incense, and card reading. 

Then there was the way Firenze taught it. Neville was sure he’d never call him “Professor Firenze”, only because it was too weird, but there was so much more wonder in the class. Firenze admitted that Divination was never perfect, nor would it ever be. There was no way to know for sure what the future held, not even for centaurs, who were gifted with natural talent for it. 

Neville had a lot of questions after class, but he had to run to Defence Against the Dark Arts. He was certain staying and talking to Firenze wouldn’t be an acceptable excuse for Umbridge. 

He was surprised most of all by how little everyone else knew about centaurs. They hadn’t covered them in Care for Magical Creatures, which Neville assumed was because they weren’t expected to know how to care for centaurs. They didn’t use magic at all, so they didn’t fall under “dark arts”. Even then, the fact that some of his classmates thought that Hagrid had bred the centaurs was embarrassing. 

After dinner that night, Neville took the opportunity to seek out Firenze. 

“It’s good to see you well, Neville Longbottom,” Firenze said. 

“I’m sorry, Professor,” Neville said. “I didn’t mean to keep laughing during class today. I didn’t realize how little everyone else knew about centaurs.” 

“Yes, I was a little disappointed,” Firenze said dryly. “But glad that you have not forgotten.” 

“Everyone here needs to know where the dining hall is so they don’t starve to death,” Neville said. “I needed to know how centaurs moved and fought, and how not to get captured by them again.” He looked Firenze in the eye, or as best he could. Firenze was considerably taller than him. “Thank you again. I’d be dead without you.” 

“In the subject I now teach, the wisdom of centaurs is far above that of humans. I regret that our knowledge of humans is rivaled only by humans’ knowledge of us.” 

Neville nodded, thinking of Rose and the stories she’d told about growing up as a human in Rontus, which primarily held Dwarves, and Faera, which primarily held Elves. She’d never felt so out of place as she had on Faera, even when she’d arrived on the Rowling Plane. Many of them didn’t realize that Humans could even speak. 

“I… You’ve been in the Forbidden Forest until you came here yesterday, right?” 

Firenze nodded darkly, and for a moment, Neville was worried that he’d struck a nerve. But Firenze made no further hesitation, and Neville needed the answer to the question that had been at the forefront of his mind for months. Every inch of him ached for him to ask about Moon as thoughts of her filled his mind. He needed to find her. 

“Did you see a girl with blonde hair and a black dog? Showed up about a month ago?” 

“Not a girl precisely, and I wouldn’t necessarily call the beast that walks with her a dog. There have been signs of them for about one moon, but they only made their presence known recently.” 

He looked up at the ceiling for a moment, and Neville started to rock back and forth on his feet. It sounded like Luna had gone to the Forbidden Forest, and more importantly, was still there. 

“Tell me, Mr. Longbottom, how well were you paying attention in class?” 

“Well enough.” 

Neville hadn’t thought about it, but he’d paid attention more during Firenze’s lecture than any of Trelawney’s. Professor Trelawney always seemed so… out of it, but Firenze spoke as an expert on the subject of Divination. That, and he’d admitted outright that Divination was more of an art, and there was no way to be certain about any of it. Professor Trelawney always went on about how Divination was the one true truth or something. Neville honestly didn’t pay terribly close attention, especially with everything else going on in Hogwarts. 

Firenze pointed up at the ceiling, where the moon became visible. 

“Some time ago, we centaurs noticed that the moon had been becoming brighter. Every full moon, it shines brightly in the sky, brighter than it has in a long time.” 

Neville looked up at the moon. It looked bright, but he didn’t know how bright it had been. 

“I’ll take your word for it.” He looked back to Firenze. “Are you saying that it’s got something to do with Luna?” 

“I see you weren’t paying complete attention to the point of the class.” 

Neville waited, but after a few seconds, he realized Firenze was pulling an Ozerl and making him figure it out himself. He concentrated on the lesson, struggling to remember everything Firenze had taught them. After a moment, he realized the answer was why he liked Firenze’s lectures better. 

“You mean you can’t be certain.” 

“I can’t, but I also won’t ignore a coincidence, nor will the other centaurs. You see, the creature that appeared in the forest wears a pin of a crescent moon. She—” 

“That’s her! That’s Luna! I got that for her from Thindro’s Jewelers — best in all of Hogsmeade — a few months ago!” 

Firenze stared patiently at Neville until he calmed down. 

“If she proves that she means them no harm, they’ll most likely trust her. Many of the forest creatures believe she was sent by the moon as some sort of spirit, to protect them from the war.” 

“You mentioned that in class,” Neville said, looking up at Mercury. “You said it would be different than it was before, but you didn’t say why.” 

Firenze pointed up at the sky. 

“Mercury shines brightly between those two stars, there and there. That indicates that the war will resume.” He pointed at a comet that Professor Sinistra had shown them the other day in Astronomy. “Do you see that comet?” 

“Sure,” Neville said, once again wondering what any of this had to do with Luna. 

“It’s entering the proximity of Mars, along with those two stars, but it shouldn’t be there. Something’s changed to disturb the balance, and I, along with many other centaurs, fear it will be for the worse.” He turned back to Neville. “The forest creatures believe that this girl… Luna, I believe you said, although that’s not the name she uses… will protect them. She speaks with the forest, and it responds to her, and she doesn’t smell like a human to those that could smell her. Even her face doesn’t appear human anymore.” 

“That sounds more and more like Luna,” Neville said, his excitement evident on his face. “I don’t know about her face, but… it doesn’t matter. Thank you, Firenze.” 

“You’re welcome, Neville Longbottom.” 

Neville grabbed his pack, and started on a quick letter. He’d made plans long ago for when he finally found Luna. First, he had to let her dad know. That’d be the first thing she’d want him to do, then he planned to tell Hermione. He’d tossed that one around for a while, but was sure he could convince Hermione not to go with him. Because the final step was to go after her. 

His letter to Xenophilius Lovegood was short. He let him know that Luna was in the Forbidden Forest, but alive. 

Neville ran up to Gryffindor tower, searching for Hermione. He had no intention of taking her with him, but he figured he’d need to inform both her and Luna’s dad that he knew for sure where Luna was. 

After being unable to find her in the common room, he ran up to his own room, where he found Harry getting ready for bed. 

“Where’s Hermione? I need to talk with her, now!” 

“What for?” Harry asked. 

In his own bed, Ron glared at Neville over the book he was pretending to read. Then he waved his wand and animated a few books to stand guard at the door, ensuring they weren’t disturbed by their other two roommates. 

“I know where Luna is!” 

Harry paused while opening the map. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Positive! I need to find Hermione to tell her.” 

Neville began moving his body in place, trying to burn off some of the energy he had while Harry moved like a glacier to get the map open. 

_Move faster! Move faster! Come on, Skyeyes, I know you can go faster than that!_

Neville dropped to the ground when Harry activated the map. He scanned the castle, looking everywhere Hermione usually hung out. 

“There!” 

He spotted her leaving the library, and took off without another thought. 

“You’re welcome!” Ron called after him. 

Neville sprinted down the corridors again, choosing to avoid jumping over the edge with professors out and about. His heart raced in his ears, and he was starting to feel fatigued, but he shut it all out. Nothing else mattered apart from doing what he had to do before finding Luna. 

“Brain!” 

He skidded to a halt as she passed by, then ran back up to her. 

“What’s going on?” she asked, her tone matching his. “Is something wrong? What’s happened?” 

“I found her,” he said, tapping his ear. “Firenze said something humanoid has been in the Forbidden Forest for about a month now, but it only just appeared to them.” 

“So?” 

“It’s always with a dog, can speak with the forest, and wears a pin of the crescent moon!” 

“That’s got to be her!” Hermione exclaimed. “What are we waiting for? We’ve got to go find them!” 

Hermione turned and began to run back towards Gryffindor tower, but he quickly caught her. 

“You’re not coming,” he said. “Just me.” 

“What? What do you mean ‘just me’? She’s Rose’s sister! If you’re going, I’m going!” 

Neville had anticipated a fight from Hermione, and had prepared somewhat of an argument. 

“You’re supposed to be avoiding stress, remember? You know what the Forbidden Forest is full of? Things that want to kill or eat you! Usually both!” 

Neville decided he had no more time to argue with her. He took off for Gryffindor tower again, hoping he’d lose Hermione. He’d done his part and informed her, and that was all he needed to do. 

“I’m fine!” Hermione called from behind him, trying to keep pace with him. “Besides, Hogwarts isn’t exactly stress free these days!” 

Had he not sprinted up and down the castle already, Neville would’ve lost her easily. Having done so, he was starting to wear out, and Hermione didn’t seem to tire, no matter how much she ran. 

It was something he’d noticed at the start of the year, when they’d sparred together. Hermione never seemed to tire from running or strenuous activity. She would get worn down from injury, but never from activity. What had Rose done to her that she hadn’t done to anyone else? 

* * *

Hermione ran after Neville, darting inside Gryffindor tower just after him. She raced up to her room and grabbed her things. There was no way he was going to beat her out of the common room. 

“Hermione, what are—” Sally-Anne began, but Hermione didn’t hear anything after that. 

The moment she had her things together, which she’d practiced doing time and again, just in case, she was back in the common room and out the entrance. She was sure she’d beaten Neville, and sure enough, he walked out a few seconds behind her. 

“You’re not coming!” he snapped, and stormed off down the corridor. 

Anger boiled up inside her again, and she ran to keep up. She didn’t feel tired, even after running up several flights of stairs. 

“Why not?” 

“I already told you! You can’t handle it!” 

“I can handle it just fine! Besides, it’s not like we’re going to stay there forever! We’re fetching Luna and coming back!” 

“It won’t be that simple! We don’t know what she’s been doing in there.” 

She laughed and pulled out her notebook. Inside were all the notes she’d taken from reading Luna’s mum’s notes. 

“ _I_ do.” 

He stopped walking and spun to face her. Even she wasn’t oblivious to the anger he was showing. 

“I’ve got the answer here.” 

She showed him the book, then stashed it back in her own pack. She wasn’t about to risk him trying to take her only advantage. 

“If you want me to tell you, you’ll have to take me with you.” 

Neville’s eyes darted between her and her pack. He stood still for a moment, and Hermione knew she had him. He’d take her along, having no other choice. 

Hermione had to hold down a laugh. She was finally going to have the chance to make up for hurting Luna. Pain formed in her stomach, making her ill, and she felt short of breath. The same symptoms of guilt that always arose when she thought about that day. But it’d all be gone soon. 

Neville stood still, never talking, never moving. 

“I’d rather find out myself than ever let you hurt Moon again.” 

His arm moved faster than Hermione could track. It swung in an arc, releasing a small pellet as it reached shoulder-height. The pellet exploded when it hit Hermione, covering her world in smoke. 

She caught the sound of footsteps running away from her, and ran towards them. Her vision cleared after a few seconds, but by the time it had, she’d lost sight of Neville. 

Hermione ran down the corridor, heading towards the ground floor. She knew where he was going, and she wasn’t going to lose track of him. 

_Not him. He’s the only friend I’ve got left._

Sally-Anne was spending too much time with Umbridge. She’d hurt Ron too badly to be forgiven. Harry didn’t trust her. Ginny was afraid of her. 

Everyone was afraid of her. 

_Maybe they’re right._

Neville and Luna were her only friends. The only ones who’d stood by her, even after what she’d done to Luna. The only two people in Hogwarts that weren’t afraid of her. 

That thought weight her down, and her pace slowed. 

“What’s the point?” Hermione asked herself. “They don’t want me there. Of course they don’t want me there.” 

A flash of black tentacles oozing from the ground around Neville and Luna erupted in her mind. Then the memory mutated, and instead of Neville and Luna, she could see herself, surrounded by burning tents, screaming in agony. 

Horror swept over her. She was no different than he was. 

Perhaps it was best if she stayed away. 

Hermione turned around and started walking off. The castle felt lonely, and the more people she passed, the worse it got. She tried to tell herself it’d be alright in the end. Neville would find Luna, and they’d both come back. 

But she didn’t know they’d be alright. Nothing was certain anymore. How could it be? 

Rose was still dead. 


	21. Take Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Harry has a really bad day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling has control of Harry Potter.

One week before Gryffindor’s match against Hufflepuff, Harry received a summons from none other than Umbridge. 

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_In one week, you are to meet with me in the afternoon. If you choose not to show up for this meeting, please see me in my office at the same time for detention._

_Sincerely,_

_Professor Dolores Umbridge_ _High Inquisitor of Hogwarts_

In all honesty, Harry had been wondering what his excuse for not being at the match would’ve been otherwise. The rest of the team still didn’t know, but he’d been working with Ginny since the weather had improved enough for practice. 

“WHAT?!” Angelina screamed when he showed her the note. 

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” 

“WHAT DID YOU DO?” 

“Nothing!” he snapped, offended that she thought he’d done it on purpose. “I don’t know! Umbridge probably just has it in for me.” 

Angelina jabbed a finger at him. 

“You. With me. Now!” 

With the note in hand, Angelina stormed up to McGonagall’s office with Harry in tow. He knew Professor McGonagall knew, but he wasn’t sure what would happen. If Angelina found out he’d cheated, that was it. He’d be off the team. She was graduating, which put either he or Katie in the running for captain next year. There was little he wanted more than to be the captain, even if it meant having to select almost an entirely new team. Gryffindor wasn’t good at keeping up with their reserve players. 

“Professor McGonagall!” 

“Ms. Johnson,” McGonagall replied, looking up from her desk. 

Harry wondered if they always had something to do, or they were just required to always look busy when students came by. 

“What’s this?” Angelina asked, holding out the parchment. 

“It appears to be some sort of parchment,” McGonagall said dryly. 

“Umbridge is holding Potter during the match!” Angelina exclaimed. “You’ve got to stop her!” 

McGonagall hesitated, then caught Harry’s gaze. She knew why this was happening, just not how Umbridge knew anything. At least, that’s what Harry thought that look meant. It was hard to tell with McGonagall. 

“I don’t know what you expect me to do,” McGonagall said. “Professor Umbridge can have anyone sacked if we go against her. Have you got a replacement for Mr. Potter?” 

“What?!” Angelina shrieked. “But you can’t—” 

“I can’t do anything about it, Ms. Johnson, so I repeat: Have you got a replacement for Mr. Potter?” 

Angelina stared in horror at McGonagall. Harry looked between the two, still fearful that McGonagall would give him up. But she stayed silent, waiting for Angelina to answer her question. 

“Weasley might be ready,” she said at last. “Against Diggory though? She doesn’t stand a chance!” 

“I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do,” McGonagall said, handing the parchment back to Harry. “I’m sorry.” 

Angelina stormed out of McGonagall’s office. 

Harry started to leave, but stopped for a moment. 

“Thanks.” 

“That was not a favor to you, Mr. Potter,” she said. “That was a favor to Ms. Perks. She was quite insistent that no one else know. I have no doubt she organized your detention as a clever ploy to shift the blame away from you. If you have any decency in you, you would thank her for it. If I’d caught you cheating, you’d have been kicked off the team immediately.” 

Harry spent the rest of the week avoiding people. He didn’t talk to Ron or Ginny specifically, and he was in no mood to talk to Hermione about anything. The closest he came to talking to anyone that week was sitting with Alavel for an hour. Neither said a word the entire time. 

When the match rolled around, Harry went straight to Umbridge’s office. Alavel walked with him and left him at the door. 

Harry walked inside the sickeningly pink room. Umbridge sat behind her desk, looking far more smug than Harry would’ve liked. 

“It has come to my attention that you’ve been cheating, Mr. Potter. While I have been assured that you learned your lesson, I’m going to make sure that it sinks in.” 

She held out a black quill for him. 

“Take this quill, take a seat, and write ‘I shall not cheat’ until I tell you to leave.” 

Harry knew what that meant. Part of him tensed up. Fear slowly took him over, but he pushed it out. If Hermione and Luna could do it, so could he. 

He took the quill, sat down, and began to write. 

* * *

The moment Umbridge told him he could leave, Harry raced down the corridor, sliding his gloves over his hand as he ran. If he hurried, he’d have just enough time to reach the pitch before the match was over. If he was really, really lucky, there’d be enough time for him to sub in for Ginny. 

He’d worked Ginny hard over the past few months, harder than he’d worked her two years ago. If she won, it’d all be worth it. The rest of the team was good; some of the best, really, but the other players were just there to stall for time. That had never been more obvious than in the match between Ravenclaw and Slytherin a few weeks ago. Ravenclaw’s offence had dominated the field, but Malfoy had beaten Cho to the Snitch and won the match. 

The thought of Malfoy made him even angrier. He wasn’t a complete git as he’d been in previous years. It wasn’t even Malfoy at whom Harry was angry. 

It was Sally-Anne. 

Harry had watched that match, and saw Malfoy turn around and dive for the Snitch. He couldn’t have seen it; it wasn’t possible. Harry had come to the conclusion that he’d cheated, yet Sally-Anne didn’t care. Sally-Anne didn’t cause a fuss about Malfoy, because apparently, they were friends or something. No, it was just Harry. 

His mood only worsened when he heard the sounds of people returning to the castle. He’d been too late. Harry anxiously scanned the crowd, hoping to catch his friends before too long. He needed to know how the match had turned out. 

His answer came in the form of saddened, miserable, or frustrated looks he got from Gryffindor. A pit formed in his stomach. 

They’d lost. 

Harry pushed through the crowd, searching for his friends, fighting sneers from Slytherin, and looks of anger from his own house. 

“Potter!” 

Instead of finding his friends, Angelina found him. 

“Where were you today?!” she shouted, despite knowing the answer. 

“What? You know where I was! Umbridge told me she needed to meet with me today! She said meet with her casually, or meet with her for detention! I didn’t have a choice!” 

“Then make something up!” 

“Like what?” 

“I don’t care! Get McGonagall to fix it! Get Dumbledore to fix it! You didn’t have to just take it!” 

“We tried that!” 

“You could’ve gone to Dumbledore!” 

“ _You_ could’ve gone to Dumbledore!” 

By then, a crowd of people had gathered around them to enjoy the shouting match. He spotted Hermione, possibly the only person that didn’t blame him. That was an odd feeling. Ron, Fred, and George wouldn’t meet his gaze. 

“Next time, I’ll make sure to lie my way out of it.” 

“Next time?” Angelina let out a laugh that sounded more like a shriek. “You think there’s going to be a next time for you?” 

Harry froze. He’d missed one match, and now Angelina was about to kick him off the team. She wouldn’t. 

“You’re gonna kick me off the team, then? We lost without me!” 

“There’s no ‘we’, Potter! You’ve got more important things to do than to show up to a match, so why don’t you go off and do them?!” 

With that, Angelina stormed off, shoving aside anyone in her way. 

Harry watched her storm off, then caught Umbridge out of the corner of his eye. She had the nerve to look pleased with herself. 

After glaring at her, he turned around and went his own way. He knew it wasn’t her fault, although she made a good target for his hatred. The real culprit was Sally-Anne. If she’d kept her mouth shut, he’d have been fine. None of this would be happening if she’d just said nothing. 

* * *

Before Harry left the entrance hall, Sally-Anne, who’d been careful to stay away from Harry to give him time to cool off, caught sight of his hand. It hadn’t been all scratched up earlier, she was sure. Thinking about it, Loretta’s hand had been injured too. And she was sure she’d seen the Twins with injuries on their hands some time ago. 

She wandered down the corridor, thankful to have some time to herself to give it more thought. It seemed like everyone she knew had suffered some sort of injury to their hands recently. Was that what was happening? Was it just the people she knew? Of course, she knew quite a lot of people, so it wasn’t certainly her friends. What were those injuries? 

Before Sally-Anne could come to a conclusion, screams were heard from further down the corridor. It wasn’t a cry of distress, but one of anger. It was also easy to tell whose voice it was. 

“Parkinson?” 

Sally-Anne walked quickly (without running, that would be undignified) towards the sound of screaming. Fortunately, Parkinson made it easy to tell where she was. 

“YOU CAN’T DUMP ME!” 

“Oh no,” Sally-Anne whispered, then picked up her pace. 

“I can do whatever I want!” 

“Our parents already said we have to be together! What will they say when I tell them you tried to dump me?” 

Parkinson sounded confident that she’d won the argument, but Sally-Anne knew Malfoy better than that. He never went down without a fight. 

“I’m not trying to dump you, I _am_ dumping you! We’re finished!” 

Yup. Never without a fight. 

Sally-Anne reached the argument and found a growing crowd around them. She knew Parkinson; she always performed better for a crowd. 

“You can’t dump me! No one dumps me! I’m Pansy Parkinson!” 

_I’m honestly a little surprised she knows her own name some days._

“I’m surprised there’s enough space in that useless head of yours for your own name.” 

Unlike Parkinson, Malfoy kept his voice down, but put as much condescension and arrogance as he could into every word. And of course, he accented it with a sneer. It wouldn’t be Malfoy without that sneer. 

Parkinson lost what little calm she had left. She screamed and pulled her wand, but Malfoy was faster than Parkinson. They threw spells at one another as the crowd backed away. All except Sally-Anne, who had an easier time fighting her way to the front with everyone else backing away. 

“ _Seu Strada!_ ” 

A shimmering disc asserted itself between the squabbling couple. Both bolts struck it, making Sally-Anne thankful that most spells seemed to manifest as bolts she could block. What was she supposed to do with it if they weren’t? 

“That’s quite enough of that,” she said, withdrawing the shield. She kept her hand at the ready, in case they decided to attack again. 

Parkinson turned her fury on Sally-Anne. 

“You!” 

“Stay out of this, Perks!” 

“If you two wanted privacy, then you shouldn’t have made a scene.” 

Parkinson looked from her to Malfoy. 

“I see. You’re with her, aren’t you?!” 

“That’s ridiculous!” Malfoy snapped. “As if I’d dirty the Malfoy bloodline like that!” 

_Thanks, Malfoy._

“Then what’s she doing here?” 

At first, Sally-Anne thought she must’ve heard Parkinson wrong. At least 20 students were crowded around them. Then she realized that Parkinson just wasn’t that bright. 

“I’m a prefect, Parkinson, like both of you. I heard a fight and came to break it up. That’s my job.” 

“Get over yourself, Mudblood!” 

“Care to repeat that, Ms. Parkinson?” 

The crowd dispersed and ran for it when Professor McGonagall arrived, leaving Malfoy, Parkinson, Crabbe, Goyle, and Sally-Anne alone with her. 

“I… I…” 

“It’s alright, Professor McGonagall,” Sally-Anne said. “She didn’t mean it. She and Malfoy are having an argument, and in the heat of the moment, Parkinson said something she didn’t mean.” 

It took a moment for Sally-Anne to realize that she no longer thought about being the better person, she simply was. She understood perfectly what was necessary, even if other people refused to see or accept it. 

Fortunately for her, Professor McGonagall was not such a person that ignored the truth. 

“I see. Well, Ms. Parkinson, I suggest you apologize to Ms. Perks.” 

“That’s really not necessary,” Sally-Anne said, certain she saw smoke coming out of Parkinson’s ears. “I hold no ill will towards her.” 

“Regardless, that isn’t the sort of language we tolerate at Hogwarts,” McGonagall said, turning her attention back towards Parkinson. “Ms. Parkinson?” 

Parkinson growled something that sounded like “I’m sorry”, so Sally-Anne took it before she painted an even bigger target on herself. 

“Apology accepted.” 

With that, Parkinson stormed off. Sally-Anne caught her muttering what she was sure was a threat, but chose to disregard it. She didn’t want to risk causing more trouble. 

“Mr. Malfoy,” McGonagall said. “Anything to say?” 

“No.” 

McGonagall looked to Sally-Anne for confirmation. Sally-Anne gave a short nod. 

“Very well. I trust you’ll all have a pleasant remainder of your day.” 

After McGonagall left, Sally-Anne gave Malfoy a small, polite smile, hoping he got “I’m proud of you” out of it. She honestly felt proud of him. There was little doubt in her mind Parkinson would get herself reinserted into his life within the week, but at least he’d stood up for himself. 

“Have a nice day, Malfoy.” 

He gave her no response. Not out loud, anyway. 

_You too, Perks._

Sally-Anne turned around before she lost her composure. She was finally getting somewhere with him. What a good day it was turning out to be. 

* * *

After the match and possibly being kicked off the team, Harry was in a bad mood. He didn’t want to talk to anyone, nor did he want to deal with anyone else’s problems. He’d heard Parkinson shouting earlier, so he’d steered clear of that. Unfortunately, trouble always found him. 

“Potter!” 

“Leave me alone!” 

“Ever think about how we found out about you and Chang?” 

Harry paused. He’d never thought about how Malfoy had found out about it. With everything that had happened between him and Ellie, then he and Sally-Anne, he hadn’t cared. Then he’d tried to put the entire thing out of his head to focus on working with Malfoy instead of against him. In all of that, not once had it occurred to him to ask how Malfoy had known. 

“Alright, how?” 

Parkinson’s smirk grew even more annoying. 

“Perks told us.” 

That caught Harry’s attention. Alavel had said it was because of Rose that Sally-Anne was acting so strangely lately. But all of that had happened before Rose had died. Before everything had gone wrong. 

Parkinson scrunched her nose and frowned. 

“I think it was right after your match against Hufflepuff two years ago, come to think of it.” She smirked again. “Funny how it works like that.” 

Harry struggled to think of that match. It felt like ages ago. He hardly remembered liking Cho back then, but if he had, then… of course he had. That was when he’d told Sally-Anne! 

He made no attempt to hide his anger. It burned brightly inside him, causing him to shake with rage. How long had it taken her to go straight to Malfoy? How long had she been leaking his secrets? He’d told her about everything! Everything! He’d told Sally-Anne all about his life with the Dursleys, something he hated talking about. He’d hardly told Ellie about it, but he’d believed — honestly, truly believed — that he could trust Sally-Anne. 

“See you around, Potter,” Parkinson said. With a swing in her step, she sauntered off, leaving Harry alone in the corridor. 

As bad a mood as he’d been in before setting off, he was even worse then. He never wanted to see Sally-Anne again. He couldn’t trust anyone! Not Sally-Anne! Not Ellie! Not Hermione! Anyone! And worse yet, Sally-Anne had everyone else convinced she was nice. No, not nice, trustworthy. 

_I’m Sally-Anne Perks. Tell me your deepest, darkest secrets. Don’t worry, I promise not to tell anyone._

“Anyone except Malfoy,” Harry growled. “Is she trying to be a pureblood?” 

The answer to that question seemed obvious once he remembered how she’d been treating Sirius: yes. She absolutely was. The way she spoke to Sirius, belittling him in front of everyone, trying to make him act “proper”, it all pointed to one thing: Sally-Anne was trying to be a pureblood. If not that, then trying to fit in with them, so no one would ever question it. She was on Malfoy’s side, for no one knew how long. 

He didn’t care. All he wanted was to be alone. Far away from everyone else who just tried to make his life miserable. That’s all anyone ever did. 

* * *

After Malfoy and Parkinson left, Sally-Anne returned to her thoughts on Harry. Was it something that had happened during their meetings? Sally-Anne hadn’t thought about the meetings in a while. In fact, she’d avoided thinking about it at all. There was no telling what Hermione could do, so avoiding thinking about it seemed like the best decision. 

How did their club factor into their plan? Was Harry really interested in teaching students to defend themselves? He sounded like he thought Hermione was raising an army instead. Assuming he was telling the truth then, what if… what if Hermione _was_ raising an army? What if Umbridge had been right all along? If Dumbledore had told Hermione to do something, she’d have done it. She questioned some authority, but never Professor Dumbledore. What if she’d told him about the club, and he’d let her in on his real plan? 

That was it, wasn’t it? Sally-Anne had known everything was falling apart, but she hadn’t realized how far gone everyone had become. 

That left her with the question of their hands. What were they doing to their hands? Neville… wore gloves, so she couldn’t be sure. Luna had worn a bandage on her hand for a time, but Ginny hadn’t. Not at first, anyway. Then there was Hermione, who’d taken to wearing gloves early on. What was it? What were they doing? 

Then, it was as if everything fell into place. Hermione had detention with Umbridge, then shortly thereafter started wearing gloves. Sally-Anne still didn’t know why. Luna had detention with Umbridge, and kept her hands hidden. Then Sally-Anne had seen Luna go into Umbridge’s office, and afterwards, Luna had kept her hand bandaged up. Then Umbridge had given Loretta detention, and she’d worn a bandage on her hand. Finally, Harry had just met with Umbridge, the idea for which had been Sally-Anne’s, and he was suddenly wearing his Quidditch gloves. 

Sally-Anne realized what had to be done. Whatever was happening involved Umbridge, and it was up to her to put a stop to it. 

“Professor Umbridge, have you got a moment?” 

Umbridge looked up from her work and smiled at Sally-Anne. 

“Ms. Perks. How can I help you today?” 

“I’ve got concerns to raise with you about the students,” Sally-Anne said, closing the door behind her. 

“Oh? Whatever could those be?” 

Sally-Anne sat down, carefully avoiding looking as panicked as she felt. 

“Every time a student has detention with you, they come back with some sort of injury to their hand. I’d like to know why.” 

The smile never faded from Umbridge’s face. 

“It’s my form of punishment.” She took out a black quill from her desk. “I call it a Black Punishment Quill. It draws ink by scratching words into the writer’s hand. That way, they’ll never forget what they’ve done.” She gave a small chuckle. “It truly leaves an impression on the naughty student.” 

Sally-Anne took a moment to process that. A teacher in whom she’d placed her faith was punishing students through physical abuse. Not just that, but forcing them to harm themselves. It sounded more like torture than punishment. 

“That… doesn’t sound legal.” 

Umbridge took a letter with a Ministry seal on it and placed it on her desk between them. 

“Authorization for the Black Punishment Quills from Minister Fudge himself. I assure you, unlike Dumbledore, I’m working quite within the boundaries of the law.” 

Sally-Anne felt dizzy, but quickly shook it off. She wanted to shout at Umbridge, because Sally-Anne herself knew that such a punishment would only encourage her friends. It was almost certainly what solidified Umbridge as a villain to Hermione, and likely the rest of her friends as well. Those quills were probably what made them believe they were doing the right thing, when to any rational person, they were clearly not. 

If Sally-Anne tried raising her voice to Umbridge, it would be just as effective as it would’ve been to her friends. She was in a position of trust with Umbridge, and she didn’t want to do anything to disturb that. At the same time, she wanted to stop it from happening. She’d done that to Luna, Hermione, and Loretta — Loretta of all people. She was a first-year. She didn’t know any better. 

“With all due respect, I think what you’re doing is wrong,” Sally-Anne said. 

Umbridge shifted the letter on her desk. 

“I’m acting well within the law, Ms. Perks.” 

“I didn’t say ‘illegal’, I said ‘wrong’. Unethical.” 

“I’m doing what is necessary.” 

Anyone could’ve told that Umbridge believed that. She believed that such an inhumane punishment was necessary, but it wasn’t working. Sally-Anne knew that for a fact, but she had to explain so delicately, otherwise she risked causing more problems. 

“I know for a fact that this isn’t working,” she said calmly. “You’re not stopping students from breaking the rules, only making them more careful about it.” 

Umbridge folded the letter and put it away. Her eyes stared straight at Sally-Anne. Sally-Anne had her attention. 

“Do you now? However could you know that?” 

“Because I know what my friends are doing. On the surface, it seems harmless enough, but I think… I think it’s growing into something worse. I think you’re right; Dumbledore is trying to raise an army out of the students.” 

The smile on Umbridge’s face grew wider. 

“Really?” 

“I think Harry is lying about Voldemort. I think he and his girlfriend Ellie — ex-girlfriend, now, I suppose — snuck out to the Forbidden Forest at the end of last year. Whatever they planned to do was interrupted when they found Rose’s body. Harry made up the story about Voldemort for fear of being punished and most likely expelled. I don’t think he understood the magnitude of his lie at first, but then Dumbledore picked it up for the exact reasons you keep saying: I think he wants to control the Ministry. Not for hostility, but for retaliation. I think he’s believed that Minister Fudge has been running the Ministry improperly, and that he knows better.” 

Sally-Anne noticed a quill scribbling down notes out of the corner of her eye that hadn’t been there before. It didn’t surprise her; what she knew was about to change everything. 

“Then the Minister put you in charge of Defence Against the Dark Arts, which leads me to another conclusion of mine.” 

“Which is?” 

“Before I tell you, I want to make a deal,” Sally-Anne said. “Everything my friends have done since then has been due to the influence of Rose and Professor Dumbledore. Removing them from Hogwarts wouldn’t do any good. Monitoring them at all times might be necessary, but I know they’ll see reason in time. I’m sure of it, so I’d like your word right now, while that quill is writing everything we say, that you won’t expel or arrest them.” 

Umbridge didn’t say anything at first. Sally-Anne’s heart was beating much faster than she would’ve liked, and loud enough that she could hear it. She did everything she could to keep herself together. 

Umbridge nodded towards the quill, and it started a new page. After a moment of silence, broken only by the scratching of the quill, Umbridge slid the parchment towards her. 

Sally-Anne looked it over and saw that it was a contract, dictating the terms for which Sally-Anne had just asked. It also mentioned Sally-Anne’s statement in an attached form. She glanced at the other piece of parchment and saw an “A-1” at the top, indicating the form to which it was referring. 

“I’d also like to ask that you don’t use those punishment quills anymore,” Sally-Anne said. “Right now, they’re using it as proof that you’re a villain. Using such a harsh punishment on teenagers who believe the world is black and white will only make it harder for them to accept that you’re just trying to do what’s best for them.” 

“And what would you suggest instead?” 

Sally-Anne paused for a moment, thinking on it. Harry was easy enough to figure out; just take away his broom, and he’d cooperate. Although once you actually took it away, you’d need something else. Hermione was trickier, but she had pressure points too. Probably her equipment from Rose, but Sally-Anne was still hesitant to mention any of it. It wasn’t doing any immediate harm, apart from maybe Hermione’s hair clip. 

“Everyone’s got something,” she said. “A blanket punishment like that doesn’t work as well. I was able to get the Slytherin team to back off Ron using something I’d learned about their captain. Once you’ve established that you won’t tolerate their behavior, enforcing the rules won’t be too hard once you find out what they want. And I know what each and every student in Hogwarts wants.” 

Umbridge stared at Sally-Anne as if she were trying to reach into her mind. Sally-Anne had no idea what it felt like to have her own mind read, but, after she’d explained that wizards could read minds without some special pendant, her mother had insisted that she learn to fight it. While Sally-Anne wasn’t the best at Occlumency, she was confident she was good enough to keep out basic attempts. 

After a moment of a somewhat creepy stare, Umbridge nodded to the quill. It scribbled down more terms to their contract, which Sally-Anne reviewed. 

“Now,” Umbridge said. “About what your friends are doing.” 


	22. Ripped Away From You in an Instant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hogwarts gains new management.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** Harry Potter cannot betray J.K. Rowling.

Ron sat in the library, staring at the same page in a book he had been for nearly half an hour. He didn’t know why, but he’d found that there was a sense of safety that came with sitting alone in the library. 

Sally-Anne hadn’t offered any insight during their rounds when it’d occurred to him. She hadn’t said much to him at all the previous night. He’d expected something along the lines of “Sorry about the match”, or “I think you did a great job”, but she’d been silent. He’d tried asking her about it, but she’d spoken as little as possible. 

Harry had a permanent scowl on his face, and had just ground his teeth together when Ron had asked him about Sally-Anne at breakfast. 

Ginny wasn’t much better. Anyone that Ron had seen try to talk to her had been yelled at. The words “incinerate”, “conflagrate”, and a few more Ron was surprised she knew came up a lot. 

Thus, Ron found himself hiding in the library, away from everyone trying to jeer or laugh at him. Where he could work towards something greater, although he didn’t know what it was supposed to be. 

“Ron?” 

Butterflies formed in his chest as he recognized the voice. He wasn’t sure when he’d heard it last, apart from answering a question in class. 

Hermione flashed him a halfhearted smile. 

“What do you want?” he asked, nerves giving way to anger. 

“Erm… before she left, Luna and I worked out a way to replicate Rose’s telepathic network using runic tattoos. She imprinted me and Neville the first night… and I thought I should imprint everyone else. I didn’t have much of a chance to do it earlier, with Luna missing, and now Neville gone. Then there was the match…” Her eyes grew wide, and she clapped her hands to her mouth. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean… I’m sorry!” 

It hadn’t been long ago that Hermione had arrived in the library to see him. He could still remember how excited he’d been, but now he only wanted her to leave. She’d only make things worse, like she’d done in the past few months. That’s all she ever did anymore. 

“Leave me alone.” 

He raised his book so he couldn’t see her. 

“I thought… we should all have it, so… so we can all… stay in contact.” 

Hermione’s voice shrunk with every pause. She didn’t seem like the same person that had dumped him back in September, but he reminded himself that she was still that person. 

“So now you’re interested in talking to me?” he snapped. “Or are you just going to pretend to be, only so you can rip it all away to chase some ridiculous… nonsense!” 

Hermione looked at Ron again, but quickly turned away. He held his glare on her. What did she want? To get his hopes up again? To make him more miserable than he already was? Well, he wasn’t having any of it. He opened his mouth to say as much. 

“Ron… I’m so sorry.” 

Her words sat in him, nestled inside, and dug through his defences. They were the words he’d longed to hear from her for months. 

“Too little, too late,” he said, blocking his view of Hermione with his book again. 

Even though his book blocked his view of her, her muffled sobs, her quivering, the struggle to contain herself, he could hear all of it. What was her problem? 

“Go away!” He dropped the book and jumped to his feet. “Leave me alone! I hate you!” 

He’d seen Hermione after she’d been battered by their fight with Sirius. He’d seen her after a man had hit her with the Cruciatus Curse. But Ron was sure that he’d never seen her in as much pain as he saw her then. 

“I’m sorry,” she said again. She held her hands closer to her face, quivering like a mouse before a hawk. “I’m…” 

She didn’t say another word to him. She just turned and left the library, holding herself in her arms. 

Ron slumped back into his chair, in a worse mood than he’d been in when he’d gotten there. He’d gone out of his way to be alone, but nothing ever went right. Not anymore. 

A shiver ran down his spine, and he had the distinct feeling he was being watched. It was a feeling he’d had since the start of that year. Like Rose was still out there, watching him, waiting for him to upset Hermione again, so she could go in for the kill. 

“Leave me alone,” he hissed at the empty section of the library. 

* * *

Hermione had never felt so small, so insignificant. After what had happened… with Harry, with Quidditch… she thought perhaps people wouldn’t be so worried about her. But everyone was still angry at her. Why wouldn’t they be? 

She bumped into someone. All she saw were black robes. After mumbling an apology, she moved to get out of the person’s way. 

“Watch where you’re going Granger.” 

Hermione looked up and realized that she’d wandered into the Dungeons, with no idea how she’d gotten there. 

Professor Snape stood in front of her, glowering down at her. 

She immediately brought her head down to avoid his gaze. 

“Sorry, Professor,” she whispered. 

“Really, Granger?” 

Trembling, Hermione looked up at Snape. He looked back at her in disgust. 

“What?” 

“You can disassemble a spell mid-flight. I doubt Dumbledore could’ve done that at your age.” 

“So?” 

“As much as I hate to admit it, you’re probably the most talented student at this school.” He sneered at her. “It doesn’t matter much, since everyone else seems capable of dealing with real life far better than you.” 

Hermione was at a loss for words. If she didn’t know better, she’d have thought Professor Snape was trying to help her, but that couldn’t be possible. It was Professor Snape. The only students he ever helped were the Slytherins. Besides, who would want to help her? She was nothing. 

“What?” 

“Peta-Lorrum didn’t let it get to her. She always managed to find the strength to carry on, even when she was wallowing in self-pity like a pathetic child.” He sneered again. “Sort of like you are now. So what’s wrong with you that you can’t get over it?” 

“I… Maybe…” 

Snape rolled his eyes at her. 

“And Vector has such high hopes for you. I suppose it’s not the first thing she’s been wrong about.” 

“She’s a better teacher than you’ve ever been!” 

Anger burst forth from within her. She wanted to see Snape writhing in pain, but for once, her magic didn’t grant her request. 

All he did was raise an eyebrow. 

“How dare you talk about her like that!” she screamed. “What have you ever done? Ever! Nothing! You just stride around like you’re so much better than everyone, but you’re just as miserable as the rest of us! You hide behind your status as a professor, as head of Slytherin, where you can safely ridicule children expecting to learn something from you! I might be broken, but at least I’m not a coward like you!” 

When Hermione’s brain restarted, and she realized what she’d done, the next move she anticipated was Snape getting angry at her. She saw no reason why he wouldn’t be. Had she been in Snape’s position, being disrespected by a subordinate, she’d have chewed them out just as hard. 

“Really?” he sneered. “You’re not a coward? Then what do you call hiding in the Hospital Wing for almost a month? Or hiding behind Peta-Lorrum for four years? You’ve never solved your own problems in your life, Granger. Even Longbottom grew up! I used to be his worst fear, and now he has no problems standing up to me. But not you. You just keep expecting other people to do it for you. No one’s here to fix it for you this time, and all you’ve done is snivel and hide. All you are is an embarrassment. To yourself; to Hogwarts; to Vector; and to Peta-Lorrum.” 

“I’m not an embarrassment!” 

“Then prove it.” 

Despite her intent to continue their argument, he saw no need. Professor Snape turned around and strode down the corridor, his cloak billowing behind him. 

“I’m not done talking to you!” she called after him, but received no acknowledgment. 

“I’m not an embarrassment,” she huffed to herself. 

_Then prove it,_ his words echoed in her mind. 

“I will.” 

She walked out of the Dungeons, still annoyed at being talked down to. With any luck, Ron was still in the library, brooding over whatever pointless problems he had. 

For months, Hermione had thought to be like Rose was to be mad, clever, and powerful. That wasn’t why she admired Rose. It was as Snape had said: even when she was at her lowest, Rose still found the strength to go on. She fought for who she cared about, and she stood up for what was right. She was mad, and frequently walked the line between good and evil, but that wasn’t the part on which Hermione was going to focus. She would be like Rose, stand up for what was right, and carry on no matter what. 

People gave her questioning looks when she got to the library, but she ignored them in favor of returning to the section where Ron would be set up reading. Sure enough, she found him. 

He glared at her when she entered, but she gave it right back to him. She wasn’t going to back down this time; she wasn’t an embarrassment. 

“I spent the summer trying to understand how Rose would’ve just given up like she did. I still haven’t got an answer, but every time I tried to write to you, I got sidetracked by it… and it hurt to even try. I’m sorry. I honestly meant to write to you more. When you asked about it, I was worried you’d think I didn’t think you were important, or that you’d think I was prioritizing Rose over you again. Instead of telling you all that and risking hurting your feelings more than I already had, I made a mistake and just shut you out, hoping you’d think I was shutting everyone out. I thought it would’ve hurt you less. I shouldn’t have done that; I should’ve talked to you in the first place, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I put you through all that because I couldn’t think straight.” 

“I… I didn’t accept your apology before, and I’m not accepting it now!” Ron snapped, although he seemed far less sure of himself than he had earlier. 

“I don’t expect you to. You’re probably never going to forgive me, and I’ve got to live with that. I deserve it. But right now, we’ve got bigger problems than you and me. Everyone’s on edge, like something’s about to happen. We haven’t got Toad or Moon anymore, and I’ve got a bad feeling about Princess. Skyeyes doesn’t trust her… which isn’t saying much these days, he hardly trusts anyone anymore, but I’ve got a bad feeling anyway. It’s down to the four of us — you, me, Skyeyes, and Firecracker — and if something’s going to happen, you better believe we’ll find ourselves at the heart of it. When that happens, our ability to communicate is going to be invaluable.” 

“Nothing’s going to happen!” Ron snapped. “You’re just paranoid!” 

“Something is about to happen.” 

Hermione closed her eyes to stop herself from jumping at Harry’s voice. 

“Skyeyes, why do you feel the need to sneak about like that?” 

“It’s good practice,” Harry replied. “Sally-Anne’s compromised. We can’t trust her anymore.” 

Ron glowered at him in instead of Hermione. Hermione was just confused. 

“How do you know that?” Hermione asked. 

“She’s been off,” Harry said, tapping his ear. “Not herself. Not in a few days. She’s got her mind on something else, no matter who’s around her. Something’s going on, and she knows it.” He turned his attention to Hermione. “It’s got something to do with Umbridge.” 

Hermione nodded, and realized Harry was scanning her for signs that she was about to lose it. 

“I can’t do anything if no one will listen,” Hermione said, replying to his look. “If I blame Umbridge for everything, that’s exactly what people will do: ignore me. Why do you think it’s got something to do with Umbridge?” 

“Firenze,” Ron said. “She was livid when Dumbledore brought him in.” 

“But Sally-Anne wasn’t surprised by Umbridge sacking Trelawney,” Harry said. “She… she looked like Umbridge. Like she agreed that it was Trelawney’s own fault.” 

“We know about centaurs because we’ve looked them up, but the Ministry classifies them as dangerous,” Ron said. “That’s what Dad said when I told him we had one teaching class.” 

“With Toad’s disappearance, it won’t be hard for her to get rid of Firenze,” Hermione added. “He ‘disappeared’ right after Firenze started teaching, because Firenze confirmed that Moon is inside the Forbidden Forest. It’s not hard to spin that into him being a bad influence on the students.” 

“Whatever’s going on, Sally-Anne’s a part of it, but on Umbridge’s side,” Harry said. “And Umbridge was furious that Dumbledore brought in one of his own.” 

“Then we’ve got to have a way of coordinating,” Hermione said. “If… if Sally-Anne is really against us, then we can’t trust her. Even if she is our friend, we—” 

“No!” Harry snapped. “She’s not our friend. We’ve got to understand that. She’s the enemy now.” 

Hermione wasn’t in the mood to argue, lest she risk them ignoring her again. She simply nodded, hoping it was indifferent enough. 

“Like I was saying, we need a way to coordinate. I… I was thinking about this earlier, that we could use something Moon and I developed before she left. It’s on me, and it’s on Toad. I… I haven’t told him anything, but—” 

“What is it?” Harry asked. 

“A runic cluster that allows for telepathic communication. It should function just like Rose’s network. So long as we’ve got the exact rune, we’ll all be able to communicate. That way, we’ll be ready for whatever happens.” 

Harry nodded, then they both turned to Ron. He glared at Hermione. 

“I know you don’t like each other much,” Harry said, “but we’ve got to get past that.” 

“Easy for you to say,” Ron said. “Her friend didn’t threaten you all the time.” 

“I’m sorry she did, but we can’t worry about it now,” Hermione said. “Besides, I think she meant to apologize.” 

“Of course she did.” 

“She wouldn’t have taken me straight here to see you last year if she were afraid you were going to upset me. That was supposed to be her apology.” 

“She could’ve just come here!” 

“No, she couldn’t, and it will take far too long to explain. Right now, it’s important that we can stay coordinated. Please, Ron.” 

Harry and Hermione stayed focused on Ron. Hermione hoped that she’d convinced him to trust her, at least for the moment. 

“Alright,” he said at last. 

* * *

Harry knew holding another CI meeting would be a problem, but a breakout of Azkaban seemed like a good excuse to hold one. 

None of his friends read the _Daily Prophet_ anymore, but even then, they’d all heard about it. The worst of the worst had broken out of Azkaban. Bellatrix Lestrange, the Carrows, Pettigrew… it was obvious who was behind it. Yet, the Ministry still refused to admit there was a problem. 

For good measure, he brought Hermione back, but had her looking over the Marauder’s Map on her own, checking for any danger. Thus, she was the one that noticed their immediate problem first. 

<It’s happening!>

Harry turned and frowned at Hermione. 

<Don’t just stand there looking daft! We’ve got a problem!>

As her voice filled his head, she pointed at the map. 

“What is it?” he asked, moving over to her. 

“We’ve been compromised,” she replied, pointing at the dots converging on the Room of Requirement. “Look. Malfoy, Parkinson, Crabbe, Goyle… all our favorite people, and Umbridge isn’t far behind. They’ve never been close to here, but now they’re waiting.” 

Harry looked closely at the map. Sure enough, the dots hardly ever moved. Hermione was right; they were waiting for them. 

“How’d they know where to find us?” Harry asked. 

“I don’t know,” Hermione replied. “If anyone had snitched on us, it’d show.” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Harry said, pushing it aside and turning back to the class. “Everyone, listen up! I need your attention, now!” 

He gave them six seconds to stop talking and look at him before continuing. 

“We’ve got a bunch of hostiles approaching this corridor. Far too many to be a coincidence. We’ve been compromised!” 

“I say we take them!” Ginny said. “Hit them hard and fast! There’s more of us than there are of them!” 

Harry looked around at the nervous shifting the students made. He caught Cedric’s gaze, and the older boy shook his head. They had the same thought: these weren’t fighters, they were kids. 

“No,” Harry said firmly, meeting Ginny’s gaze. “We won’t get out of this with force. We don’t know what they’re doing, or how much they know, so first we’ve got to get everyone out. Umbridge probably knows about the four of us,” he indicated himself, Hermione, Ginny, and Ron, “but they can’t know about everyone.” 

<That’s wrong, and you know it,> Hermione said. <There’s only one person outside this room that could’ve told her, and she knows about each person in this room.>

Harry glanced at Hermione for just a second to acknowledge her, then turned back to the students. 

“We’re going to get everyone out,” he said, hoping to reassure them. 

_I just don’t know how yet._

“I’ve got it,” Ron said. “If someone can make a smokescreen, they’ll be blind. Harry, you won’t be, right? If you can do that thing… _blindsight_ or whatever it is… then you can take them out before they know what’s going on.” 

“I can do that!” Ginny exclaimed. 

Before anyone could stop her, the tip of her wand started smoking. 

Harry nodded to her, then turned back to the others. 

“Everyone, cover your mouths and eyes. I’ll let you know when it’s safe. The moment Ron and Hermione tell you to, run as fast as you can. Push past anyone in your way, it won’t matter. Keep moving until you’re far away from here.” 

Ron nodded and turned to Hermione. 

“How do the surrounding floors look?” 

Harry was glad Ron had thought of that, because it’d completely escaped him. 

“Clear.” 

Harry paused for a moment, knowing he didn’t have much time to collect himself. 

<What about Princess?>

He didn’t want to ask out loud. Sure, she was the enemy, but Sally-Anne was still a friend to many of the people inside. They hadn’t figured out she was a snake in the grass yet. 

Hermione held his gaze for a moment, then scanned the map. After a tense moment, she shook her head. 

<I don’t see her anywhere.>

He looked at the door and wished Alavel had been there to help him, that Hermione hadn’t brought up the argument about them being in danger if they were caught with them. 

“Skyeyes, we’ve got to move now,” Ron said, having agreed to use their nickname for combat scenarios. “If they get too close, we won’t have a chance.” 

Harry nodded, then moved towards the door. 

<Ready?> Ron asked. 

<Ready. Ginny, do it.>

Ginny started a smokescreen. As he’d later find out, a few of the older students had provided additional cover. 

Harry darted through the smoke, easily able to sense his way around. 

“ _Stupefy._ ” 

A red bolt shot out of his wand and caught an unsuspecting Slytherin. He went down, and Harry moved on to the next one. One by one, they each fell, leaving Harry alone. 

<All clear. Go now!>

Students flooded the corridor as the fog cleared. Harry himself stayed behind, ensuring that every student vacated the area. He knew he hadn’t taken down Umbridge. Where was she? 

He waited until he saw Hermione, Ginny, and Ron leave the Room of Requirement before running himself. The four of them broke apart, Hermione and Harry running one way, and Ginny and Ron running the other. 

Harry sensed movement from around the corner and stopped, grabbing Hermione before she ran any farther. 

“Not that way,” he hissed. They turned around, but he sensed more movement behind them from down at the other end of the corridor. Movement coming towards them. 

“No way out, Potter.” 

From their end of the corridor, Malfoy stood up. Crabbe and Goyle joined him, and soon, the other Slytherins were surrounding them. 

“I’m afraid this is the end, Mr. Potter,” Umbridge said, stepping into view. 

Harry saw Ron and Ginny, equally trapped on their end. If they coordinated their attacks, they still had a chance. He didn’t know what their next step would be, but getting away from Umbridge seemed like a good idea. 

<How’d they get back up so fast?> Harry asked. 

<Still working on it,> Hermione replied. <Nothing coming to mind.>

“You’ve got nowhere to run,” Umbridge said. “You’ve both been caught red-handed. It’s best for everyone if you come quietly.” 

Ginny and Ron allowed themselves to be backed closer to Harry and Hermione. 

<I’ve got an idea,> Ron said. <I think I see an opening, right past Umbridge. If I throw a Scattering Hex and Ginny makes more smoke, I think we can get out of this.>

<Then what?> Hermione asked. 

<We’ll figure it out then,> Harry said. <Do it!>

Ron threw a scattering hex near Umbridge, throwing her and most of the Slytherins off their feet. Ginny threw as many smoke spells as she could around the corridor, providing them additional cover as they ran for it. 

Harry’s _blindsight_ tripped and he realized there was someone else in the corridor. Coming right out of the Room of Requirement. He didn’t realize who it was until it was too late. 

“ _Miru!_ ” 

A wall formed in front of them, catching them all off guard. Their pause gave Umbridge enough time to recover and stun them all. 

“Now. You will all come with us.” 

* * *

Umbridge led them up to Professor Dumbledore’s office. It wasn’t far to walk, nor was being dragged the worst part of it. No, the worst part of it was knowing who was responsible for them being brought it. 

Sally-Anne didn’t say a word the entire trip, apart from “This is for your own good”. 

Harry didn’t believe her for a second. She’d betrayed his secrets to Malfoy once already. Who knew what else she’d told him. Harry didn’t think he’d ever felt more hatred for someone in his entire life. 

Umbridge waved aside the gargoyle when they arrived. Inside, they found Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Minister Fudge, along with a few people Harry didn’t recognize. 

“Madame High Inquisitor,” Dumbledore said cheerfully. “To what do I owe the privilege of your attendance at our little party?” 

Harry wondered if Dumbledore had ever been worried about something in his entire life. If there was a moment for concern, this was it, but he showed none of it on his face. 

It was made worse by Umbridge’s confidence. 

“You won’t be so happy when you realize what we’ve found out,” Umbridge said. “These four students were caught in the act of organizing a resistance!” 

“Really?” Dumbledore asked. “Against what? I once organized a resistance against cold feet, but not everyone appreciates a good pair of wool socks these days.” 

“They call themselves the Crimson Insurrection,” Sally-Anne said. “They’ve been operating secretly for months. About a third of the school is involved, mostly Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. I’ve got a list of names if you’re interested, but the leaders have always been Harry Potter and Hermione Granger.” She glanced at them for a moment, took a breath, then turned back to Minister Fudge. “As I’ve told Professor Umbridge, the former created the lie about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named returning to hide the fact that he was sneaking about in the Forbidden Forest, after curfew, with his girlfriend Ellie Langley, whose memory has since been wiped of the incident, and the latter went mad after being subjected to the Cruciatus Curse and subsequently losing her friend Rose Peta-Lorrum, who herself was mad.” 

“WHAT?!” Harry and Hermione roared. 

They both tried lunging for Sally-Anne, but Malfoy and his goons kept them restrained. 

“I see you’ve made no efforts to discipline your students, Dumbledore,” Fudge said with a mild look of disgust. He smiled at Sally-Anne. “Fortunately, students such as Ms. Perks here have taken it upon themselves to act responsibly.” 

Sally-Anne silently nodded her head in thanks. 

“I hope you’re happy!” Hermione hissed. 

“Silence!” Umbridge hissed. 

“It’s alright,” Sally-Anne said. “Let her speak.” 

Sally-Anne slowly turned her head towards Hermione. Her face was stoic, empty. Harry couldn’t remember ever seeing her like that. 

“You were our friend!” Hermione said. “How could you?” 

“You’ve got no idea what you’re doing,” Sally-Anne said. “You’re exactly like Rose. You just stumble in without thinking, then blame everyone else when it goes wrong. This was inevitable, Hermione. One way or another, your resistance would be discovered. You nearly killed Luna. How many more people would’ve had to have gotten hurt before you realized that you were out of your depth?” 

“After everything Rose did for you! You’re alive because of her!” 

“I’ve nearly died here more times than I care to remember because of either Rose’s arrogance or Dumbledore’s incompetence.” 

From behind them, Ginny snarled at Sally-Anne. 

“And your pal Malfoy here?” Hermione asked. “He poisoned you!” 

“He’s a teenager. Professor Dumbledore isn’t. Rose, despite her insistence on acting like a child, was far older than she let on. Think about that, Hermione. She’s an adult pretending to be a child. She wasn’t right in the head.” 

Sally-Anne turned her empty stare back to Professor Dumbledore and Fudge. 

“Is this what you wanted, Ms. Perks?” Dumbledore asked. 

There was no anger in his voice. No sense of betrayal. 

“I want a world where I know the people I care about are safe,” she replied. “A world of order and safety.” 

“We all do, Ms. Perks,” Umbridge said. “That’s what the Ministry has been trying to provide for months, but it is clear that Albus Dumbledore has other plans.” 

Fearing the worst, Harry stepped in and added his voice to the chaos. 

“Professor Dumbledore didn’t know about this!” Harry said. “It was my idea!” 

Umbridge let out a small laugh that made Harry’s blood boil. 

“Ms. Perks, would you please cover this part?” 

With another glance at them, Sally-Anne nodded. 

“Harry only ever intended to teach them what Professor Umbridge wouldn’t. He doesn’t understand how the curriculum works, nor that it’s assigned by the Ministry for a safe learning environment. Allowing students to actually practice such defensive magic is irresponsible, dangerous, and isn’t required for their exams. He honestly thought he was doing the right thing.” 

She glanced at Hermione. 

“Hermione, however, was following Rose’s example of believing she knew better than everyone else. Through her arrogance and mounting paranoia, she became convinced that Professor Umbridge was out to get her, hence the name ‘Crimson Insurrection’. It follows Rose’s example of rebelling against anything she believed was wrong.” 

Sally-Anne spared another glance at Hermione and sighed. 

“It wasn’t her fault either, really. Rose had more of an influence on her than the staff did. It should’ve been their responsibility to spot something like this and deal with it appropriately.” 

“You’ve left out one thing, Ms. Perks,” Dumbledore said, getting to his feet. “You forgot the part where I told Ms. Granger to start all of this. You see, I intended to use Rose as a weapon against the Ministry, but with her gone, I had to resort to her replacement. Especially after Ms. Granger expressed interest in reproducing the unique magic Ms. Peta-Lorrum used, I thought it was the perfect opportunity to create an entire army of weapons just like her.” 

“So you confess?” Fudge said, giving significant glances to the other people in the room. 

“Oh yes, to everything,” Dumbledore said. “That I’m trying to overthrow the Ministry, that I’m really Voldemort in disguise, that I made up the whole thing, whatever it is the Ministry is saying about me these days. You’ve got me, Cornelius. Well done.” 

“Then as Minister of Magic, I hereby place you under arrest,” Fudge said, motioning to the people Harry didn’t recognize. “Control of Hogwarts will fall to Dolores Umbridge, effective immediately.” 

McGonagall opened her mouth to protest, but Dumbledore shot her a quick look that told her to hold her tongue. He gave the same look to Harry and Hermione. 

“If I may say one last thing to Ms. Perks before you take me into custody,” Dumbledore said. 

Fudge frowned at Dumbledore, then turned to Umbridge. 

She smiled as if she owned the world. 

“Of course,” she said. 

Dumbledore nodded his thanks, then addressed Sally-Anne. 

“You’ve done a fine job, Ms. Perks. I’m sure your friend Ms. Nertlyn will be very proud of you.” 

He turned back to Fudge and his Aurors. 

“Now, Dumbledore, if you’ll come with us…” Fudge began. 

“Hm?” Dumbledore smiled, still apparently not taking the situation seriously. “Oh, I’m sorry. You mean be carted off to a holding cell before being thrown in Azkaban, yes?” 

“Yes, that is what ‘under arrest’ traditionally means.” 

“Oh, then I’m afraid I must decline your invitation. I’ve got quite a lot to do, you see, being an evil mastermind and all.” 

The next few seconds seemed to span hours. 

Fawkes barreled out of his cage and shot right for Dumbledore. Aurors raised their wands. Fudge and Umbridge shouted orders. Harry tried to react, but Malfoy held him fast. Hermione, Ron, and Ginny had the same problem. McGonagall dove for cover, drawing her wand. Sally-Anne shook her hands free. 

Spells flew through the air towards Dumbledore, but Fawkes was faster. He reached Dumbledore before the spells. The moment the two made contact, they vanished in a blinding flash of fire. 

The flash from Fawkes was accented by flashes from spell-fire. They arced and cracked, but none of them hit more than empty space. When the flashes died down, there was nothing left behind Dumbledore’s desk. 

It took Harry’s eyes a moment to adjust. When they did, it began to sink in. 

Dumbledore was gone. 

“Where is he?” Fudge shouted. “What happened?” 

“We’ll find him,” Umbridge said, moving to Dumbledore’s chair. She took a seat behind his desk, looking as if it were meant for her. “As you said, I’m in charge of Hogwarts now. And there will be a few changes.” 


	23. Splitting the Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hogwarts is turned upside down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling may split the party of Harry Potter any way she wants.

Hermione was roused from her bed that night at two in the morning. Sally-Anne stared down at her. 

“What do you want?” Hermione hissed. 

“Headmistress Umbridge would like to see you,” Sally-Anne said. “Now.” 

“ _Grahk d’ka._ ” 

Hermione rolled over and tried to ignore Sally-Anne. 

“Either I bring you, or she sends someone else that will drag you out of bed. I’d really rather we not have to, but you know she will.” 

Hermione rolled back over and glared at Sally-Anne. 

“Fine.” 

“Thank you. Don’t worry about getting dressed, just make sure you’re decent.” 

Hermione tossed on a robe and grabbed her pack. 

“No, leave your pack here,” Sally-Anne said. 

Hermione followed Sally-Anne down to the common room, where she found a growing mass of students. Most of Gryffindor must have congregated in the common room. Sally-Anne went back up to the girls’ rooms and returned with more students. Hermione realized who she was collecting: their former students. Sally-Anne was fetching members of the CI. 

“Alright, everyone, follow me,” Sally-Anne called to the tired students after she’d finished. “You’ll be recounted when we reach the Great Hall, so don’t stray.” 

As their group trudged through the castle, Hermione noticed people there she didn’t recognize. The people, Ministry workers, she figured, were putting in place small black trinkets. They fixed them to the walls in various places towards the ceiling, then moved on. She also noticed a classroom sealed off on the seventh floor, not far from Dumbledore’s office. 

_It’s not his anymore,_ she thought. The thought took some of the precious remaining energy she had out of her, making her feel defeated. 

They met up with another group from Ravenclaw along the way. This group was being guarded by some Slytherins, and merged into their group when they passed Ravenclaw Tower. They made their way down to the Great Hall, collecting a sizable group of Hufflepuffs along the way. 

Sally-Anne led them inside the Great Hall, then stood at the entrance as they all filed in. 

“File in,” Umbridge commanded. “Form rows of six, starting here. Potter, Granger, front row.” 

They did as they were instructed, forming rows of six, standing still. 

“No one is to speak unless I address them directly,” Umbridge said. “You mustn’t move unless instructed. All eyes face the front of the room.” 

Hermione did as she was told. She was far less resistant at two in the morning, although she suspected that was the point: everyone was less resistant at two in the morning. That meant she couldn’t turn back and see what had become of Sally-Anne. 

“You are all troublemakers,” Umbridge said. “All of you need to be taught how to behave in a proper, civilized world. I knew Hogwarts was bad, but I had no idea just how awful it had become. Now, more than ever, my help is required. It is necessary to maintain order.” 

No one coughed, or sneezed, or yawned. They were all exhausted. 

“Granger, step forward!” 

Hermione started forward, but Umbridge stopped her. 

“Lead with your left foot, take exactly five steps, stop in front of me, then turn to face me.” 

Hermione’s blood boiled, but she wouldn’t show any of it on her face. She obediently followed Umbridge’s exact instructions, stopping in front of her. 

“Remove your gloves, and drop them to the floor.” 

Hermione stopped and glared at Umbridge in defiance, but still obeyed. 

“This girl is a traitor to the Ministry!” Umbridge said to the rest of the students. “She tells you that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned, and that he killed the girl Rose Peta-Lorrum. Rose Peta-Lorrum committed suicide! You-Know-Who has not returned!” She turned to Hermione. “Say it.” 

“‘It’.” 

Umbridge didn’t so much as flinch. 

“Now you can see what happens to traitors in a proper world.” 

Umbridge grabbed Hermione’s right hand and pressed the tip of her wand into it. 

Hermione winced as the tip burned her skin, right where the scar from her detentions with Umbridge was healing. 

“Say it, Traitor.” 

“Make me.” 

Umbridge gave a small laugh, then turned back to the other students. “This girl is no longer Hermione Granger. You shall all refer to her as ‘Traitor’. Don’t worry; I shall make it easy for you all to remember.” 

Umbridge turned back to Hermione and grabbed a tuft of her hair. Hermione glared at Umbridge as the so-called teacher smiled back at her. 

“Remember, Traitor, this is for your own good.” 

Gasps came from the audience when Umbridge brought her wand to Hermione’s forehead. Pain shot through her as Umbridge burned the word “Traitor” into her skin. Hermione didn’t squirm or flinch. She held fast, remembering Rose. She never faltered, nor would Hermione. No matter how much abuse she took, she refused to back down. 

“There,” Umbridge said, stepping back from Hermione when she finished. “Now I want everyone to say ‘Hello, Traitor’.” 

Hermione’s ears rang with a chorus of “Hello, Traitor”. 

“Very good,” Umbridge said. “Traitor, please take four steps, starting with your right foot, and return to your place in line.” 

Hermione took four large steps, then faced the front of the room. Her forehead still stung, but she kept her face blank. 

Umbridge walked along their ranks, careful to step on Hermione’s gloves on her way past. When she reached Harry, she stopped. 

“Potter, please take five steps forward, starting with your left foot, and face me.” 

Harry did as he was commanded, his neutral expression matching Hermione’s. 

“This boy you all know as Harry Potter committed the crime of attempting to overthrow the Minister of Magic. Like his friend Traitor, he went against those that only tried to help him. We can’t very well call him ‘Traitor’, so he shall be ‘Criminal’. Everyone say ‘Hello, Criminal’.” 

Hermione kept her mouth shut, but she must’ve been the only one. 

“Criminal, tell these children that you were lying to them,” Umbridge said. “Tell them the truth, that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has not returned, and that you made the whole story up.” 

“You said tell the truth,” Harry said. “Should I tell the truth, or that Voldemort hasn’t returned? I can’t do both.” 

Hermione heard a giggle from the crowd that sounded a lot like Ginny. 

<Don’t.>

<What’s she gonna do?> Ginny asked. <Burn me? I’ve–>

<It won’t take her long to find another way,> Hermione said. <Or worse, to find out why fire doesn’t work on you.>

“It doesn’t surprise me that you’ve turned to a life of crime,” Umbridge said, more to the students than to Harry. “Given that your legal guardian is a criminal.” 

“That’s slander,” Harry replied. “He–” 

“A case has been brought against Sirius Black. It is obvious to the Ministry of Magic and Department of Magical Law Enforcement that Black played a leading role in the recent breakout of Azkaban. He will be arrested along with Remus Lupin for crimes against the Ministry.” 

“You can’t do that!” 

“The Ministry can arrest any criminal it wants.” Umbridge’s smile broadened. “Including you, Criminal. You would do well to remember that in the future.” 

“I haven’t done anything wrong.” 

“That’s for us to decide, not you.” 

For the rest of the night, Umbridge walked back and forth and told them how worthless they were. That they needed her guidance to be decent people. That their lives were meaningless without the Ministry. 

As the night went on, it grew harder for Hermione to keep her face neutral. Umbridge held them there for another two hours, during which Hermione learned to use the _Tempus_ charm without moving her mouth. 

Anger swirled inside Hermione, threatening to burst free and rip everything apart. She knew it wouldn’t help. No doubt Perks had already told Umbridge about Hermione’s control issues. Umbridge would’ve had something on standby for it. 

Every time Umbridge addressed her, it was always “Traitor this” or “Traitor that”. She was always careful to use Hermione’s “new” name, or to make someone else use it. Fortunately, she hadn’t felt the need to brand Harry as she’d branded Hermione. It didn’t matter; it’d heal. Failing that, Hermione could use glamour magic to hide it. 

After the two hours, they were released and escorted back to their rooms. They past more Ministry workers installing the same sort of trinkets. Hermione didn’t even think about what they might be. She had other plans. 

When she returned to her room with Parvati and Lavender, the other two girls collapsed in their beds. Hermione noticed a similar trinket in their room, but ignored it. She walked into the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. 

Focusing on the words on her forehead, she ran equations in her mind. It was only a matter of boosting her immune system to expedite the healing process. Muttering the resulting incantations, she watched the brand disappear. Then, she used another spell, and sure enough, an almost identical brand reappeared. 

She smirked. 

“ _Grahk d’ka, jato._ ” 

Less than a minute later, she was passed out in her own bed. 

* * *

The next morning somehow got even worse. A large part of the school was exhausted from the previous night. Hermione was so tired she nearly missed it. Had there not been a small group of “innocent, decent” students looking at it, she would’ve missed it. 

It was one of the trinkets she’d seen fitted in place, except this one was in the common room, and it wasn’t the same as the others she’d seen. The center piece had opened, revealing what looked to be a sort of eye. 

“What is it?” one student asked. 

“I don’t know, but I think I saw another in our room.” 

“Is it watching us?” 

“What’s it doing here?” 

Hermione frowned, then turned back to the girls’ staircase. She bounded up to her room, taking the stairs two at a time. When she got there, she indeed found another eye, but this one was closed. 

“Headmistress Umbridge had them installed last night,” Perks said. “They’re to help maintain order. She’s going to explain them at breakfast.” 

She held a stack of papers in her hand as she walked past Hermione. The moment Perks left, the eye opened again. 

* * *

Harry was equally infuriated when he realized what the eyes were doing. Worse yet was Sally-Anne posting a piece of parchment on the common room notice board. When she walked into the common room, the eye closed, startling some of the students. 

She posted the parchment, then promptly left the common room. The moment she was out, the eye opened again. 

_Attention All,_

_On the order of Dolores Umbridge (High Inquisitor, Headmistress of Hogwarts) the following sanctions have been approved:_

_1\. Students shall be supervised at all times. The new supervision eyes are to assist in this endeavor._

_2\. Students are to remain in meals, class, and common rooms until dismissed._

_3\. Students will submit to inquiries by the High Inquisitor at her discretion._

_4\. Students will turn over all bags, purses, parcels, and sacks for searches for contraband when requested by the High Inquisitor or the Inquisitorial Squad._

_5\. Students will submit letters to be inspected by a member of the Inquisitorial Squad when requested. If the member feels that the letter should not be sent, they may deny that student the privilege of sending the letter._

_6\. Students are no longer allowed to function as Teaching Assistants._

_7\. Members of the Inquisitorial Squad are exempt from all the above rules._

_8\. Failure to comply with any of the above sanctions will result in immediate disciplinary action._

_Regarding the newly formed Inquisitorial Squad, it shall consist of the following students:_

Harry couldn’t believe his eyes. Every time he thought the rules seemed bad, they just kept getting worse. He scanned the Inquisitorial Squad list, stopping at one name: Sally-Anne Perks. 

“‘Will lead the squad in the High Inquisitor’s absence?’” he read. “ _What?_ ” 

For a moment, he wanted nothing more than to drive his fist through the wall. For years, Sally-Anne had been his best friend, and now, she’d completely turned her back on them. Any possible chance of redemption was crushed at that moment. She knew all his secrets, and she’d already spilled them all to Umbridge. He’d been right; she couldn’t be trusted. 

“She won’t get away with this,” Hermione hissed. “Perks will pay for this. I swear, she’s going to pay.” 

“Did you read her definition of contraband?” Ron asked, nodding to another section of the order. 

_Any news sources spreading falsities_

_Any potentially lethal objects, apart from wands_

_Any objects of unknown magic_

“‘Any objects of unknown magic’,” Hermione read. “Perks knows all about the equipment Rose gave us. It won’t be long before Umbridge shows up to take it.” 

“Or Sally-Anne will do it for her,” Harry said. “Or Malfoy, or one of his goons.” 

“Then why hasn’t she?” Ron asked. “If she were going to tell Umbridge, why hasn’t she already?” 

Neither Harry nor Hermione had an answer to that. The best Harry could think of was that Sally-Anne didn’t want Umbridge taking her precious pendant, dress, or ribbon. How else would she manipulate people? 

Breakfast was no better. Umbridge informed them of the changes, and that she would be reassessing the staff. She introduced each member of the Inquisitorial Squad, pausing after each one as if expecting applause. Slytherin was the only house that applauded. They even applauded Sally-Anne, the one non-Slytherin member of the squad. 

Harry wondered if they realized she was Muggle-born, and wondered how they’d react when they realized it. 

* * *

Hermione didn’t know how things kept managing to get worse. She was told repeatedly by the Inquisitorial Squad that she wasn’t allowed to cover her forehead. 

“We wouldn’t want people to forget your name, Traitor!” Parkinson mocked. 

That wasn’t even the worst of it. The worst of it came when she was called on during class. The first day wasn’t a problem; the teachers still called her by her name. Then they began to hesitate, and it didn’t take Hermione long to realize why. Umbridge had told them to use her “new” name. 

It stung, being called “Traitor” by Professors Sprout and McGonagall, but the worst was Professor Vector. 

“Ms… Ah.” 

The whole class stopped, waiting for her to say it. 

Hermione’s eyes checked Rebecca’s expression, expecting to see her thrilled over her academic rival’s shame. But even she didn’t look comfortable with it. 

“I’m…” 

“It’s alright, Professor,” Hermione said. “Do what you’ve got to.” 

If there was anyone that hated her being called “Traitor” more than Hermione herself, it was Professor Vector. Her face twitched with contained anger and resentment. Hermione had felt it a few times, that feeling when she was going to do something she already regretted, but had to do it anyway. 

“Traitor… I’m sorry… have you got the answer?” 

After that, Hermione stopped raising her hand in Arithmancy. She wrote the answer to every question Professor Vector asked, but never raised her hand. Still, she and her remaining friends found ways around the rules. 

“Can anyone tell me— Mr. Diggory?” 

Hermione showed her notes to Cedric. 

“That’s a growth charm mixed with a color-changing charm.” 

“Very good.” 

At the end of the week came the news of the staff that were being sacked. Firenze was the first to go, naturally. No one, not even Firenze himself, was surprised. He left without difficulty, without a fuss. Hermione didn’t catch the name of his replacement over the loud uproar at the next members of staff that were deemed “unnecessary”. 

“Due to budget constraints, I’m sorry to say that Mr. Filch’s assistants, Mr. Alavel and Ms. Taltria, are also being sacked.” 

“WHAT?!” Harry roared, although his voice fit in well with the rest of the students. 

Shouts of “Boo!”, “Rubbish!”, and a few of “ _Dürah!_ ” came from most of the students, Slytherin included. Hermione never realized how well the Nimblewrights got along with the students. Even Filch looked annoyed at the news. 

“SILENCE!” Umbridge screeched. She composed herself before continuing. “This is for the betterment of Hogwarts. Your safety and education aren’t cheap.” 

* * *

“She can’t!” Harry shouted. 

“Of course she can, Lord Skyeyes,” Alavel said when Harry caught up with him. “She’s well within her rights as Headmistress.” 

“Only because she framed Dumbledore!” 

“He confessed to a crime, which, might I remind you, he did to save you from punishment.” 

Harry hated arguing with Alavel. Not because Alavel was stubborn, but because he always managed to make too much sense. In the back of his mind, Harry knew that if he stopped listening to reason, Alavel would stop using it, and Harry hated the idea of Alavel treating him like a child. Anyone else could, but not Alavel. 

“So that’s it? You’re just going to leave?” 

“Headmistress Umbridge spoke with my sister and I earlier this week. This is far less about our being assistants to Mr. Filch; she doesn’t see a problem with it. It is that we have no history, no previous employment, and no proper names. There’s a lot missing from our files that she would otherwise require. Professor Dumbledore employed us because he knew who and what we are.” 

“Hold on, he paid you?” 

“Of course not. What use would we have for money? He gave us lodging and the chance to be with you and your friends. That was enough for us.” 

“THEN WHY—” 

“Because I asked her to,” Alavel said, cutting Harry’s rant short. “I asked her to cite monetary troubles as the reason for us being sacked so as not to alarm the students. She’s quite reasonable so long as she gets what she wants in the end.” 

Once again, Harry hated how everything Alavel said made perfect sense to him. So he changed tactics. 

“What about Perks? Did she know about this?” 

“Lady Princess is doing what she believes to be right. She’s not evil, nor has she turned her back on anyone. In fact, she still cares deeply for all of you. She has made a choice. A choice with which she must now live.” 

* * *

Hermione sat up reading in her room. She was weary of the eyes realizing she didn’t need sleep, but she didn’t care that night. If they figured it out, good for them. 

“You shouldn’t still be up,” Perks said when she walked in from her nightly patrol. 

Hermione didn’t bother looking up from her book. 

“Umbridge know you don’t need sleep?” 

“She doesn’t ask.” 

“Of course, she trusts her favorite little traitor.” 

“Hermione—” 

“Traitor. Remember.” Hermione pointed to her forehead. “That’s my name now.” 

“I’ll admit, that was a little harsh.” 

Hermione was surprised to find she actually found that funny. Laughing felt so foreign to her after weeks of living under Umbridge’s rule. No chance to tell her parents anything, not even writing letters. 

“‘A little harsh’,” Hermione said, mocking Sally-Anne’s voice. “No, a little harsh was lying to us about Voldemort and Rose. A little harsh was sacking Alavel and Taltria, who even Filch likes.” 

Hermione raised her voice with every sentence. She felt her anger welling, but she was more worried about Parvati and Lavender waking up than she was about attacking Perks. 

“It’s a little funny, since I’m not really the traitor here, am I? I didn’t turn my back on my best friends. I didn’t sell them out to a tyrant. That’s what you did. Ms. Perfect. As bad as I was at first, I was never that much of a teacher’s pet.” 

Perks paused for a moment, collecting herself. Hermione smirked, happy Perks was as annoyed as she was. 

“Follow me,” Perks said. “We’re going to continue this in the common room.” 

“Make me, _Jato_.” 

Perks took another deep breath. 

“Do you really want me to use the pearls again? I figured I’d show you all the respect of not using them, but if you want me to tell everything I know about Rose where Parvati and Lavender can hear it, then by all means, I’ll do that.” 

Hermione growled something unkind under her breath, then threw off her sheets and stomped down to the common room. Perks followed her, admittedly much more composed than Hermione. Not that it surprised her; purebloods were supposed to be composed and proper. It’s what set them apart from lowlife mudbloods like Hermione. 

“You know what happened last year,” Hermione said the moment they were in the common room. “You know! Why all that _dürah_? Just for a pat on the head? To impress your pureblood friends?” 

“I don’t know what happened last year, Hermione, and neither do you. All we know is what we saw.” 

“Voldemort killed Rose!” 

“Do you realize how mad that sounds? You’re not well, Hermione.” 

“We live in a school that’s practically alive! How is it such a stretch to believe that an evil wizard killed our friend?” 

“Because he’s dead! It’s not possible to bring people back from the dead, even for Rose.” 

Hermione finally felt a sense of relief. She knew that was possible, and she knew she had finally caught Perks. 

“Rose can bring people back from the dead! She’s done it before!” 

Perks closed her eyes and breathed to collect herself. Hermione hoped it calmed her down, because it only served to make Hermione even more angry than she already was. The more condescending Perks became, the more determined it made Hermione to prove her wrong. 

“Hermione, I know Rose has told us plenty of stories about a different world, but you’ve got to accept that she made the whole thing up.” 

Hermione felt her emotions run wild, and she nearly lost control and willed Perks to die. She took breaths herself, struggling to stay calm. The beast inside her banged on its cage bars, demanding that it be let out to silence Perks. 

_Not after what happened to Moon._

_This isn’t Moon. Perks deserves it!_

“How could you say she made it up? You’ve seen what she can do.” 

“Her magic is different, but that happens with self-taught wizards. They find new ways of doing things, but she’s still just as much of a witch as you or I. She was nothing more, and she certainly couldn’t bring back the dead.” 

“Yes, she could!” 

“Hermione, be sensible about this,” Perks ordered. 

That order was the last straw. Hermione kept control of her magic, but not her mouth. 

“She brought you back!” 

That finally broke through to Perks, or if it didn’t, it made her pause to think. 

“I think I would’ve remembered dying, Hermione.” 

“You do, except you thought you’d just been petrified. When Rose found you, you were dead! She brought you back, and made it look like you’d been petrified so no one would realize she could bring back the dead!” 

“And how do you know this?” Perks asked without giving it any thought. 

Hermione opened her mouth to shout “Rose”, but thought better of it. She knew what the response would be. In the end, it didn’t matter. Perks answered for her. 

“Rose told you. Of course, she did. How many times have you caught her lying, Hermione?” 

“You think—” 

“How many times have you caught Rose lying to you? Once? Twice? Ten times? More? Rose wasn’t right in the head. When Umbridge says she killed herself, that it didn’t come as a surprise to people that knew her, she wasn’t talking about us. She was talking about the people looking at her from the outside. People that saw that she was mad, and knew she was unstable. Professor Umbridge isn’t trying to attack any of you, she’s not trying to take over the world like some cartoon super villain, she’s trying to restore order. She’s trying to make a better world.” 

Hermione looked at the young woman in front of her, but she didn’t see her friend Princess anymore. This was something new, something vile. This thing looked like a pureblood, looking down on the rest of the world. She realized she was never going to get through to her, because to Perks, Hermione was only a mudblood. 

“Is that what she calls it? A world run by purebloods? You’re still muggle-born, in case you’d forgotten. How long until they toss you aside?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, they’re not going to toss me aside.” 

“Why not? Because you’re still useful? Once ‘my rebellion’ is put down, how useful will you be?” 

“Your rebellion is put down. I’ve been loyal to her, because she came through for me when I needed it.” 

“Is that all it takes to buy your loyalty? I didn’t realize it was that cheap.” 

Hermione had always had a sort of alarm in her head that informed her when she was being rude. She could still hear it clearly, but chose to ignore it. It had nothing of use to say. 

“Why are you still fighting this, Hermione? I would’ve thought you of all people would understand.” 

“Me?” Hermione laughed as condescendingly as she could manage. “What makes you think I would understand anything that pink _jato_ has done?” 

Perks rolled her eyes. 

“How is swearing at her any better than Malfoy calling you ‘mudblood’? Do you honestly think it’s helping? She’s not listening to you, but perhaps insults will help. She didn’t listen the first thousand times, but this one will get her to change her ways. Wake up! She doesn’t care anymore what you have to say. That’s why you’ll never change her mind, Hermione! You can’t force her to agree with you, but I can make her listen!” 

“Really?” 

“Really! I don’t agree with everything she says, but blindly arguing with everything she does isn’t going to make a difference! She’s making a new world, whether you like it or not! Neither of us can stop her! The difference between us is that I’ve got a chance to help shape it into something better.” 

“And her world is better?” 

“Yes, because in her world, the Aurors will run in _before my friend gets tortured!_ ” 

Perks’s face was red. She didn’t speak after that, but stood still, catching her breath. Her glare remained fixed on Hermione. 

Hermione didn’t have much to say to that. Perks clearly believed everything she’d said. Hermione wasn’t sure if she’d always been that naive, or if it was after spending so much time with Malfoy and Umbridge. 

“If you believe that, then there’s nothing left to talk about.” 

With that, Hermione turned and left the common room. She wanted to break something, to rip bricks from the walls and bury Perks under them, but she didn’t have the energy. All she could do was return to her room. She didn’t speak; anything she said would be picked up by the eyes. 

She hated it in Hogwarts. All she wanted to do was go home, to run away, but it wouldn’t solve anything. She didn’t know what she was going to do next. There was no privacy, no safety. 

So instead, she went to sleep. She had nothing. All she could do was sleep, and hope the morning would bring some sort of improvement. 


	24. I'm Always Here for You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sally-Anne realizes mistakes have been made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling is always there for Harry Potter.

_Dear Sally-Anne,_

_Last year, when you deflected dates for Harry, I understood. I was disappointed in you, because I know you’re better than that, but I understood. I want you to remember that._

_Because this, what you’ve done now, I cannot understand. Nothing about what you’ve described Umbridge doing is necessary. I’ll admit, Hogwarts hasn’t always been the safest place, but that has nothing to do with Professor Dumbledore. He’s the one that keeps it safe. When that troll got in, he had us back in our rooms within minutes. The basilisk was hardly his fault. Do you honestly expect Umbridge to care about the students half as much as Dumbledore did?_

_I can understand some Ministry representative doing all of this. I can understand, because I still remember a young woman who was terrified to go to Hogsmeade because Ministry sanctioned Dementors were guarding the gates. Nothing about them doing this to Hogwarts surprises me._

_But you? I’ve tried to think of so many ways to say this, but all I can say is that I’m disappointed in you. Treating the students like they’re going to do something wrong is something I’m sure you’ve told me not to do before. You’ve always handled my cousins better than me, because I always expect them to do something wrong. You’re the one that showed me not to react unless they actually did something. I want you to remember that too._

_I don’t know what else to say, apart from I expect better of you, Sally-Anne._

_Sincerely,_

_Alex_

Sally-Anne read the letter again before her meeting with Umbridge. She didn’t want to appear distraught about anything, lest she give the impression she couldn’t handle her new duties. She had no illusions about how well liked she was anymore. Not one person in the entire school liked her. Even the staff resented her. Umbridge gave her the feeling this was all just a political deal, to be cut at Umbridge’s convenience. Still, it was her only chance for improvement. Why couldn’t anyone see that? 

Everyone hated her. Why couldn’t they understand she was trying to help them? They acted like they were being targeted for expressing themselves. Umbridge didn’t care what they did on their time, so long as it wasn’t spreading lies and deceit. Besides, they were lucky to be afforded any freedom at all. They were teenagers in a boarding school. The fact that they weren’t monitored more closely in the past was a recipe for disaster. 

She’d been picked on and bullied more times than she cared to remember. It was a miracle students hadn’t killed one another before. In the past few months, she’d received numerous death threats and been attacked more times than she could count. If there was some positive outcome of everything, it was that her reflexes were being improved by the constant attacks. She had to be on guard all the time. Class was no different. If someone could get away with something and make it look like an accident, they would. 

The eyes were a blessing. It made it that much harder for anyone to get away with something. If they hadn’t been there, Sally-Anne likely would’ve had to have transferred out over fears for her life. 

“Tea?” 

Umbridge offered her a cup of tea. As always, Sally-Anne turned it down, but this time, she was prepared. 

“No thank you,” Sally-Anne pulled a thermos out of her pack. “I brought my own.” 

She poured herself a cup of tea in the provided cup. 

“You’re quite the clever young witch, aren’t you?” 

Sally-Anne hoped the dismay she felt didn’t show on her face as she shook her head. 

“No, that was always Hermione and Ron. Or Rose, I suppose. They were the clever ones. Always with their plans, or figuring out that one solution none of us would.” 

Sally-Anne thought back to their fight against the Basilisk. How they had all worked together to win. Now it was just her, alone. 

“They’re not your friends anymore, Ms. Perks. They turned their backs on you. They’ll come round in time, I assure you. It takes imagination to see what we’re doing.” 

Sally-Anne thought back to her letter from Alex. She didn’t have the imagination either, apparently. Of all people, Sally-Anne had expected Alex to understand. 

“Something wrong, dear?” 

Her first instinct was to hide it, but then she thought maybe Umbridge would have a solution. 

“My friend Alex… Alexandra Nertlyn, she was my prefect when I started out here… I wrote her about the changes we were making. She didn’t understand either.” 

“Never fret, dear. Years from now, all of your so-called friends will look back on this time and realize how wrong they all were.” 

Sally-Anne took a sip of her tea. 

“I hope so.” 

After her meeting with Umbridge, she thought more about Alex’s letter. She of all people should’ve understood. Alex had always wanted to help them. Why wasn’t she helping Sally-Anne? Of all people, she should’ve been happy Sally-Anne was working so hard for everyone. 

The more she thought about it, the angrier she got. Every glaring face made it worse. No one understood. Why couldn’t anyone understand? 

By the time she got back to her room, she was fuming. She picked up a quill and parchment and wrote Alex a reply. 

_Dear Alex,_

_I would’ve thought you of all people would be able to understand what we’re doing. We’re just trying to make it better. The students have already proven time and again that they can’t be trusted with their own safety. Dumbledore admitted that he was moving against the Ministry. Why wouldn’t he? He believes that he knows better than they do. But he doesn’t!_

_I thought you would, but then I remembered all the times you let Rose get away with breaking the rules. The rules aren’t guidelines, they’re in place for everyone’s safety. At least Umbridge understands that. Maybe if you’d been a better influence on all of us, Hermione wouldn’t have turned to Rose for guidance._

_I know it seems okay to you, since Dumbledore said it was fine, but he’s a criminal. He confessed. It didn’t make sense, but nothing Dumbledore’s ever done has made sense. But you see, that’s the point. I’m not so sure he was in his right mind._

_Don’t listen to him. Listen to me, the Ministry, even your own family. Your aunt and uncle were right not to let you around your cousins after you locked them in a room. You’ve got to do a better job considering the consequences your actions have on other people._

_Sincerely,_

_Sally-Anne_

She reviewed it and knew she was being too harsh, but perhaps her harsh words would snap Alex out of whatever Dumbledore-induced stupor she was in and make her see sense. Sally-Anne was worried about the effect Dumbledore had had on the rest of students. If he’d influenced Alex so heavily, who was to say he hadn’t hypnotized the rest of the school. But with Alex on her side, she knew she’d be fine. 

* * *

Final exams approached, but the situation showed no sign of improvement from anyone. Sally-Anne wasn’t sure she was comfortable taking astronomy, but it was time for their O.W.L.s, and she wanted to do the best she could. The feeling that her classmates were going to try to push her off the edge was alleviated somewhat by her ring. Her ring about which she’d never told Umbridge. She didn’t know why she never told her about their equipment. Part of her didn’t want to lose the dress, the pendant, the ring, or the ribbon. If she told Umbridge about her friends’ things, she’d have to tell Umbridge about everything she had. So she stayed quiet about it. As long as her friends didn’t cause a ruckus, she didn’t see a problem. 

She was thankful for being out that night. It gave her a clear view of what happened. 

“What’s that?” someone asked, looking over the edge. 

Sally-Anne didn’t move closer; she wasn’t about to fall for something so simple. She looked inside the student’s head as more joined him at the side. Not finding anything problematic, she edged closer. 

She almost couldn’t believe what she saw. 

A group of wizards ran towards Hagrid’s Hut. A familiar figure was at the head of the pack. 

“Is that Umbridge?” 

“Who else wears that much pink?” 

Sally-Anne took her telescope and tried to get a better view, but she couldn’t see past the mass of students. She spotted Harry with the same idea, but he chose to use his Omnioculars. 

“Rubeus Hagrid!” Umbridge’s voice carried far enough that they could all hear her clearly. “You’ve been deemed unfit as a member of staff! Please come out quietly and submit to Ministry justice!” 

Sally-Anne remained neutral on the outside, but internally, she was confused. How had Hagrid been deemed unfit? He did bring them into the Forbidden Forest on occasion, but he supervised them at all times. Why him? 

She saw her former friends exchanging looks and knew what they meant. 

“That’s Ministry business,” she whispered. “Don’t interfere.” 

Hermione shot her a glare then scoffed at her. 

“If you try to go down, I will stop you,” Sally-Anne said. 

“You’re welcome to try,” Hermione said. 

“What happens when you get down there? Do you honestly think you can beat trained Aurors? Or is this going to be the World Cup all over again?” 

“Look! It’s McGonagall!” 

Both of them looked over the edge and saw McGonagall emerging from the castle. She ran towards the chaos, calling for Umbridge to stop. When she refused, McGonagall put herself between them and the door to the hut. Hagrid stepped out slowly, joining McGonagall. 

They stood together against the Aurors when they attacked. Sally-Anne had seen McGonagall in a fight before and knew if she were really trying, she could’ve taken them all down. But she stood by and took the hits. The Aurors fired on her and Hagrid, but neither fought back. 

“Happy now?” Hermione asked her. “Some world you’ve made.” 

“We don’t know what happened,” Sally-Anne said calmly. “All we can see are the results. It’s not our place to pass judgment on the Ministry.” 

* * *

Sally-Anne walked to the Hospital Wing the next morning. McGonagall was in a bed on her own. It was probably for the best, at least as far as Sally-Anne was concerned. 

“Professor?” 

She was bandaged up, but most of the injuries she’d sustained didn’t look awful. Sally-Anne hadn’t recognized many of the spells they’d used, apart from stunners. 

“Ms. Perks. Come to deliver a message from the Headmistress?” 

Sally-Anne could’ve been imagining it, but McGonagall’s tone sounded harsher than usual. 

“No, I came to see how you were doing.” 

“Fine.” 

McGonagall wouldn’t meet her gaze. 

“What happened? Why’d you do that?” 

“Loyalty, Ms. Perks, something I don’t expect you to understand.” 

“That’s not very professional, especially for the deputy headmistress.” 

“Perhaps not, but true, nevertheless.” 

Sally-Anne found it odd how chilling McGonagall’s attitude was. Not because it was unexpected, but because she’d received the same treatment from most of the school already, and she’d grown so numb to it. But something about Professor McGonagall saying it sounded so much worse. 

“I could always understand sacking Sybill. She means well, but she’s a far cry from being called ‘good’ at her job. I suspect Professor Dumbledore kept her around out of sympathy more than respect for her talents. But Professor Hagrid is a certified handler of magical creatures. We did that to ensure there would be no issues with him teaching.” 

“With all due respect, Professor, he’s taken us into the Forbidden Forest before. That can’t be safe for students.” 

“It’s allowed under direct supervision, and necessary to have the required understanding of how to handle magical creatures. Not everything can be learned through books and theory.” 

“Those creatures are dangerous.” 

“But your precious Ministry has guidelines for handling them and for overseeing the teaching of that handling.” 

McGonagall slowly turned her head to face Sally-Anne. 

“I’m not going to try to talk you out of this, Ms. Perks. Better people than I have tried and failed. But I’ll just ask you one question: Can you think of a time when Professor Hagrid has demonstrated a threat to the students? One that was specifically his fault?” 

Sally-Anne frowned, thinking back on her time in Care for Magical Creatures. He had always run the class responsibly. Apart from letting Dumbledore put a three-headed dog in the school, she couldn’t think of anything. He’d warned Malfoy not to approach Buckbeak the way he had, so that wasn’t really Hagrid’s fault. 

“There was one time,” Sally-Anne said, “in first-year. I’d mentioned something about his dog and music… I can’t remember what exactly I’d said, but it was… something I’d read. He grabbed me, angry that I knew.” 

Sally-Anne shifted uncomfortably at the memory. The giant man had towered over her, his large hands on her arms. 

She frowned as the memory played in her head. She’d forgotten the next part. 

“Then Rose grabbed him. Glared at him, told him to let me go.” 

“And yet, we’re the ones in the wrong,” McGonagall said, returning her gaze to the ceiling. 

Sally-Anne snapped out of her memories and glared at McGonagall. 

“How do you mean?” 

“Peta-Lorrum was mad. Completely out of her mind, but she would never leave you all behind. She would’ve done anything she thought necessary in order to keep you all out of harm. I could see it in her eyes. When anyone lashed out at Ms. Granger, Peta-Lorrum was there to put them in their place. It didn’t matter who it was.” 

“If by ‘put them in their place’ you mean ‘threaten their lives’.” 

“I don’t agree with her methods, but with her results. So I’ll ask you: Knowing how protective of you all she was, is it likely that she’d leave you all behind?” 

Sally-Anne thought of Rose for the first time in months. Not that she was mad, but past that. The days they spent laying in the grass or studying together. The days she’d pushed Sally-Anne hard, so Sally-Anne wouldn’t be so defenceless. 

“I don’t know.” She frowned, but shook her head. “Her ‘methods’ have got no place in Hogwarts.” 

“Of course they haven’t. If she turns out to be alive somewhere, I’ll be the first to request that she remain off the grounds. But that’s not the point, now is it?” 

Sally-Anne sat next to Professor McGonagall for a while, deep in thought. If McGonagall minded, she didn’t say anything. Sally-Anne didn’t know who was right anymore. Her version of events, the ones with which Umbridge agreed, made so much sense to her. But what if they were wrong? What if Voldemort had somehow come back to life? But that wasn’t supposed to be possible. Unless… 

“Thank you, Professor,” Sally-Anne said at last. “I’ve… I’ve got to go talk to someone.” 

“I hope I’ve taught you something today, Ms. Perks.” 

Sally-Anne smiled. 

“I do believe you have, Professor McGonagall. Thank you.” 

Sally-Anne walked to Myrtle’s bathroom alone. Part of her couldn’t believe she was taking anything Hermione had said seriously. She’d completely lost her mind, and Sally-Anne knew it. She just hadn’t realized to what extent. But there was still a chance… 

“Myrtle? Are you in here?” 

The eyes in the bathroom closed, leaving them alone. 

“I’m here.” 

_I can’t believe I’m about to ask this._

“I’ve got a question, and I’d like you to answer honestly.” 

_Assuming Hermione hasn’t already gotten to you and convinced you of her mad stories._

“Of course.” 

Sally-Anne concentrated on her question. It still sounded ridiculous in her head, as she knew it would sound out loud, but it had to be asked. 

“Promise?” 

Myrtle floated to the ground to stand beside her. 

“I promise, Sally-Anne.” 

_Just ask it._

“The first day we met, did the Basilisk kill me?” 

Myrtle drew a sharp breath and began to fidget. 

“Erm… er… n-no, of course not. It… it petrified you. If… if it’d k-killed you, then… then…” 

“Is that what really happened, or is that what Rose told you to tell me if I ever asked? Did she tell you to keep it a secret that she could bring people back from the dead?” 

Myrtle floated back towards one of the stalls. She shook her head slowly, stammering words that Sally-Anne couldn’t make out. 

“Myrtle, please. It’s important. Hermione already told me, I just… I need to know what happened.” 

As the seconds passed, Myrtle continued to look more and more like a frightened animal, desperate to escape a predator. Ghostly tears ran down her face, and she struggled to find words. 

“I don’t know. It looked at you, and then… and then you just didn’t get up. I tried to wake you, but you wouldn’t move. Then Rose appeared and she… she fought off the Basilisk. With her bare hands! Then she made me promise never to tell anyone what she could do and then… and then she whispered something… and you just woke up.” 

When Sally-Anne had entered the bathroom, she had been worried that she’d have to deal with the possibility that Hermione had gotten there first. That she’d convinced Myrtle to lie for her. But looking at Myrtle, at her tears, at her fear, there was no way she was lying. What Sally-Anne had just heard was the truth. And if that was the truth… if Hermione had been telling the truth about her, what else had she known? 

More importantly: it being possible for Rose to bring back the dead truly made her unique. She was from another world, and she possessed the power to restore the dead. Sally-Anne didn’t know then if Rose had brought Voldemort back to life or not, but it was possible, which meant Umbridge had been wrong. 

She glanced at the mirror in front of her. In that mirror, she saw herself betraying her friends. With every betrayal she’d committed, every lie she’d believed, the mirror cracked a little more. 

If Umbridge had been wrong about people coming back from the dead, it meant she could’ve been wrong about anything. 

_CRACK!_

And Rose… Rose wouldn’t have abandoned her friends, no matter how mad she was. She wouldn’t go far if she thought they were going to be in danger, which was just their thing. They were always in danger somehow. 

_CRACK!_

If Rose hadn’t killed herself, and if people could come back from the dead, then there was no way to know what had happened. 

_CRACK!_

The world she thought she knew, the world she’d made herself believe, shattered into a thousand pieces and came crashing down around her. She’d been wrong about everything. Wrong about Rose, about Voldemort, about Harry and Hermione. 

“She… she made me promise! I’m sorry! I wanted to tell you, but… I’m such a horrible person!” 

Sally-Anne fought through the haze of new information and focused on Myrtle, tearing herself away from her own reflection. 

“Myrtle, it’s alright. I understand.” Sally-Anne heard her own words, and let them sink in deeper. “I understand. I’m not angry. You did what you thought was the right thing, but now… now you’ve made it better. You’re still my friend.” 

Rose hadn’t killed herself. Raising the dead was possible. And Umbridge… Umbridge was a liar. And Sally-Anne had fallen for it. 

Sally-Anne turned her thoughts to Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Ginny. She thought of Loretta and the other girls. Most of all, she thought of Alex. 

“You’re probably the only friend I’ve got left.” She smiled at Myrtle, hoping it looked as sweet as she meant it to. “Thank you for telling me now. I only wish it hadn’t caused you so much pain to hold onto this for so long.” 

Myrtle wiped tears from her eyes. 

“You’re not upset?” 

Sally-Anne shook her head, and she meant it. 

“Of course not. The only person with whom I’m upset right now is myself for being so blind.” 

She meant that too. 

“I can’t believe I let Umbridge fill my head with lies like that. Everything made so much sense.” 

Sally-Anne thought back through everything Hermione had said, giving it all another thought. It made a lot more sense to her now than it did back then. 

“There was something else… why didn’t Umbridge let me go after I’d exposed my friends’ club?” 

“I… I…” 

“I’m sorry, I’m just thinking out loud. I still don’t know why she’s been targeting me with all this, but I’ve got to find a way to put a stop to it.” 

* * *

Sally-Anne sat in silence that night at dinner. She didn’t blame her housemates for treating her like the enemy. After all, she was the enemy. She swore to herself that she’d find some way to make it up to them. As a member of the Inquisitorial Squad, she had the unique ability to get word to the outside world. All she could do was notify her parents, maybe some members of the Ministry, but it wouldn’t be enough. What she needed was political power within the Ministry, and despite her mum’s seemingly endless list of contacts, she doubted there were any on that list with such power. But there was someone with that power. She just didn’t know if she could convince him to use it. 

“Good evening, Malfoy,” she said that night. 

“Perks.” 

They didn’t say much more than that for most of the night. Sally-Anne went through everything she knew about Malfoy, about what he was like. She hated the thought of manipulating even one more person, but she needed his help. He was her only chance of getting the power to take down Umbridge. 

“Malfoy, we’re not friends, but we haven’t been at each other’s throats in a long time, right?” 

Malfoy stopped walking and stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. To be fair to him, he wasn’t far off from the truth. 

“What?” 

“I’ve got a question, and if there’s a part of you that doesn’t completely loathe my mere presence, I’d appreciate you giving me a straight answer.” 

He continued his stare of incredulity, but Sally-Anne didn’t flinch. She remained steadfast in her attempt to get the truth out of him. 

“What are you on about, Perks?” 

“Can you think of a time — any time at all — that Umbridge has lied to someone?” 

He looked at her as if he couldn’t believe she existed. 

“What?” 

Sally-Anne stood her ground. 

“Do you want me to repeat the question?” 

“What does it matter?” 

“Because I have. And I’m quite sure that you have too. So if you’ve ever heard her lie to someone, ask yourself: what’s stopping her from lying to you?” 

Malfoy scoffed. “She wouldn’t dare go against my family!” 

“I’m not suggesting she would. But she would manipulate them to her own ends. Her agenda is entirely her own. It just happens to line up with ours. What happens when it doesn’t? What happens when she decides she doesn’t need our cooperation anymore?” 

“She never needed your cooperation, Mudblood! I should’ve been in charge of the squad, not you!” 

Sally-Anne was surprised to find how much Malfoy calling her “Mudblood” again stung. Despite her pain, she straightened up and confronted him. 

“Exactly my point. She doesn’t believe that blood status matters as much as you do. What happens when she decides that it doesn’t matter at all? Is the Malfoy family really going to bow and scrape to anyone? She holds the cards, Malfoy, and with that decree she told us about today, it’s only going to get worse. So the only question is, do you want to change that?” 

* * *

Hermione, Ron, and Harry sat around in the common room the following night, keeping to themselves. They didn’t talk to or even look at the others. Anyone watching would assume they were ignoring the others, which is exactly what they all wanted the eyes to think. 

<She went after Hagrid,> Harry said, recapping their frustration. <It’s Hagrid. He’s not harmful, or irresponsible, or expendable, or whatever reasons they’re using for sacking everyone else!>

<Not to mention, sending in a team of Aurors,> Hermione said. <That’s got ‘misuse of resources’ written all over it.>

<But there’s nothing we can do,> Ron said. <Not unless Fudge suddenly decides something’s wrong.>

Hermione and Ron had spent shifts in the library, once again careful not to act any differently around each other. That meant no avoiding contact, but minimal interaction. If it looked like they were up to something, even in the slightest, Umbridge would come down on them. 

The fruits of their labor had been learning that Umbridge and Fudge couldn’t be stopped. An internal investigation had to be brought up against Umbridge, which would have to be approved by Fudge, and there was no formal way to force such an investigation. It was entirely up to Fudge, and without public pressure, there was no way he was going to approve such a thing. 

<We can’t get word out,> Hermione said. <Even if we managed to work out a cipher, the Inquisitorial Squad could simply deny our request to send a letter.>

Hermione had tried sending a letter to her parents, simply saying she was still okay. She was far from okay, but she didn’t want them to worry. Besides which, she wasn’t allowed a dissenting opinion. She’d encountered Sally-Anne, who had denied her request. Harry had explained why: Sally-Anne’s pendant allowed her to read their minds, so she wasn’t going to let Hermione send a letter, since it doesn’t work on Hermione. 

<Why can’t we just go on the offensive?> Ginny asked. <Take the fight to her. Demand that Fudge put a stop to it, or we’ll—>

<Or we’ll what?> Ron asked. <Kill her?>

<Who cares? She’s just an NPC! A villain! A boss! We’re supposed to kill her!>

They were all the most worried about Ginny. She was always accompanied by one of them in hopes that she wouldn’t blow up one of the eyes. Since she wasn’t able to contain herself while using the telepathic network, she instead stayed up in her room while the others were in the common room. To anyone watching, it looked like she was just throwing nightly temper tantrums. 

It hadn’t taken long for them all to realize the problem with staying in the common room after dark. If they made a habit of obviously not sleeping, it wouldn’t take long for Umbridge to notice. They didn’t know why Sally-Anne hadn’t told her yet, but whatever the reason, they intended to keep it that way. The moment they lost their equipment, they’d lose the war entirely. 

Hermione was a little happy that they’d all agreed it was a war. They were in a prison camp, after all. It was hard to ignore the signs any longer. Even then, killing Umbridge wouldn’t help, as they’d explained over and over again. 

<Once again,> Harry said. <If we kill her, it proves her right, and Fudge will use that to make life here even worse. We want to get rid of her, not have them send someone just as bad.>

The eye in the common room closed, and they all glared with practiced coordination at the entrance. 

“Splendid,” Sally-Anne said. “You’re… mostly all here. That saves me the time of having to convince you all to come down.” 

“What do you want, Perks?” Hermione asked. 

“I want to say I’m sorry, but you won’t all hear me out,” Sally-Anne replied. “So instead of telling you I’m sorry, I’ll start by showing you.” 

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Sally-Anne as her former friend walked calmly over to the fire. When she reached it, she ripped the “I” from her robes — the insignia of the Inquisitorial Squad — and threw it in the fire. 

“I believe you,” Sally-Anne said. “Rose was mad, but she cared about us. She’d never leave us alone if she thought there was a slight chance that we’d end up in danger without her.” 

Hermione waited, but that was apparently all Sally-Anne had to say. When Hermione realized that, she started laughing. 

“That’s it? You honestly think we’re going to forgive you just like that? Or do you really think we’re so gullible that we’d fall for something so obvious?” 

Sally-Anne shook her head, keeping her hands folded in front of her. 

“No, I don’t expect you to forgive me. Not ever.” She drew a letter from her pack and walked over to Hermione, the only one currently looking at her. “I sent a copy of this to my parents just now, with instructions to send it to your parents, Hermione, to tell them what Hogwarts has done to you. Copies will be sent to Sirius and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Then similar copies, with far less personal information, will be sent to Madame Bones at the DMLE, and about half the staff at the _Daily Prophet_ , Ministry of Magic, and every Hogwarts family. I gave my parents specific instructions regarding what information to withhold. Your names will be left out of it, apart from anything that goes to your families. I sent the owl this afternoon, which means it will have reached them by dinnertime. Knowing Mum, she’ll have sent out the letters by know.” 

Hermione scoffed at the letter without reading at it. 

“And you really think that’s going to work?” 

“It’s the best I can do,” Sally-Anne said. “The _Daily Prophet_ credited me in part for all this, so anyone that reads and believes the prophet will know it’s valid. Anyone else will likely be happy to believe it, because if they’re not reading it, they probably don’t like Minister Fudge.” 

Hermione narrowed her eyes, then snatched the letter out of Sally-Anne’s hand. Sure enough, it gave a detailed account of the past several months, including personal details Hermione hadn’t known about Sally-Anne. At the end, it included a second letter, which Sally-Anne had instructed her parents to send to a list of people, which included a family from every student at Hogwarts. 

“I’ve got access to administrative records from Hogwarts,” Sally-Anne said. “Getting that list was easy.” 

“And how do we know you actually sent this? If I’m holding the letter, how did you send it?” 

“I asked Dripty to make a copy for me. He’s rather good at it. That’s what you’re reading now. Then he went with me to deliver the original. You can ask him if you’d like.” 

“None of this matters,” Harry said, turning towards her. “We leave in a few days, and…” 

He stopped when Sally-Anne started shaking her head. 

“No, you don’t. She’s going to announce it tomorrow at breakfast.” Sally-Anne closed her eyes. “‘Due to the inadequate nature of the education provided at Hogwarts under its previous leadership, all students are required to undertake additional summer courses.’” 

While Sally-Anne spoke, Ron sent a message to Ginny to go to the common room. If it surprised Sally-Anne to see Ginny there after she’d finished talking, she didn’t show it. 

“Hello, Ginny.” 

Ginny growled at her. 

“I deserved that.” 

“You deserve a lot more than that, _jato_!” 

“They’re going to make us all stay over the summer?” Harry asked. 

“Yes, which is why it’s vital that word got out now. I’m not here to make some grand attack on Umbridge. I wanted all of you to be the first to know what’s going to happen tomorrow. I don’t know if it will be enough to stop her, but if it’s not… I’ve got one last contingency that’s got such a small chance of success I’m not going to bother mentioning it. If it’s not enough to stop her, then I’m going to work from within to take her down.” 

“Isn’t the missing insignia from your robes going to tip her off?” Hermione asked. 

“Do you know how many times I’m attacked every day? Crabbe and Goyle have lost their insignias three times each already. Parkinson can hardly keep track of her own belongings, much less—” 

As if on cue, the portal opened. They all turned their heads to look. 

The remaining members of the Inquisitorial Squad looked back at them. 

“Well,” Parkinson said, “lucky us.” 


	25. Only Way to Conquer It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Umbridge plays her hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling owns Dolores Umbridge.

Hermione looked from the gang of Slytherins in Gryffindor Tower to the possible Slytherin with whom she’d just been speaking. 

“You,” she hissed. “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you.” 

Before Sally-Anne could reply, Malfoy cut in first. 

“As if we needed her help to find all of you. We know where you lot hang out. We’ve always known, and we can get into any room we want.” 

Hermione remained ready for a fight. This was her home, and she was going to defend it if need be. Behind her, Harry edged out of the spotlight, while Sally-Anne took center stage in front of her. 

“What are you all doing here?” Sally-Anne asked. 

“We’ve got instructions to bring them in,” Parkinson said, pointing to Hermione and her friends. “Traitor, Criminal, and any Weasleys we can find are coming with us.” She smirked at Sally-Anne. “If you’re not careful, Mudblood, we’ll have to take you with us.” 

Hermione heard the familiar click of Ginny readying her wand. 

“If you’re really going to resort to name-calling, then I’ve got plenty of names to call you,” Sally-Anne said coolly. “Although, given that you’re not that bright, I doubt you’d recognize most of them.” 

Parkinson shoved her way to the front of the group and leveled her wand at Sally-Anne. 

Sally-Anne herself held up her hand to stop Ginny from going after Parkinson. 

“Why don’t I just take you down right now?” Parkinson said. “I could say you fought back.” 

“If I fought back, you’d lose, and Umbridge knows that. By the time you’ve fired your spell, I’ll be protected. And that’s assuming that one of my friends doesn’t take you out first.” Sally-Anne took a step forward. “But it’s not going to come to that. Whatever it is Umbridge wants, she’s not unreasonable. Take me in and I’ll talk to her.” 

<What’s she doing?> Ginny asked. 

<I think she’s trying to help us,> Ron replied. 

Hermione let her eyes dart to her friends. Sure enough, Ginny and Ron had their wands ready but hidden, and Harry was nowhere to be seen. While she wished Neville and Luna were there to back them up, she was glad they were outside. If things went south, Neville could bring in Luna, assuming he’d found her. 

_Taltria and Alavel are also still out there. They’ll think of something._

It wasn’t that she doubted her friends; in a fair fight, or anything resembling one, she had no doubt that they’d win. Unfortunately, a fair fight wasn’t likely to happen. She still wasn’t sure whose side Sally-Anne was on, nor what else Malfoy would’ve planned. If they made a wrong move against them, they could all fall right into a trap. 

<I’m going to tell Neville what’s going on,> Hermione told Harry and Ginny. <If anything goes wrong, he’ll have our backs. For now, I think it’s best we cooperate.>

<Agreed,> Harry said. <Alavel would say the same thing.>

“We’ll go quietly,” Hermione said. “Whatever it is Umbridge wants, we’ll cooperate.” 

<This is a trap!> Ginny snapped. 

<But it’s best we walk into it now,> Ron replied. <We can walk into it willingly and be at full strength, or resist and go in tired. Either way, we’re not getting away, not yet.>

Ron held his hands up, his wand nowhere to be seen. 

Harry stepped out of the shadows, his wand also hidden. 

They were patted down, then marched to Umbridge’s office as a group, including Sally-Anne. Hermione kept her cool as they walked. She couldn’t afford to slip up. This was the end, she knew it. She just didn’t know how it would end yet. 

Umbridge faced away from them when they entered. She looked over each of them after she faced them. 

“Ms. Perks,” Umbridge said. “Conspiring with the enemy? I thought I could trust you.” 

“This is all getting out of hand,” Sally-Anne said, somehow remaining dignified while being held captive. “This doesn’t need to go any further. Headmistress Umbridge, I’ve got reason to believe that Rose Peta-Lorrum didn’t kill herself. If she didn’t, then the entire argument against both Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore falls apart.” 

“Except she did kill herself,” Umbridge said. “You said so yourself.” 

“Neither of us were there,” Sally-Anne replied. 

Hermione wasn’t sure what to make of the situation. Any second, Sally-Anne was going to sell them out, she was sure of it. 

“I don’t need to have been there. Peta-Lorrum is dead. She killed herself. That’s a fact.” 

“Prove it.” 

“That’s not possible.” 

“So you can’t know for sure. If you can’t prove it, then—” 

“I don’t need to prove it, Ms. Perks, I’m the Ministry.” 

“And the Ministry doesn’t care, does it?” Hermione asked, seizing her opportunity. 

“Hermione, that’s not helping,” Sally-Anne hissed, but Hermione shook her head. 

“I think it is, because I know what Toad and Moon never worked out,” Hermione said. “Moon and her dad saw it first, but came to the wrong conclusion. They think Minister Fudge is a vampire because no one’s seen him outside in the daytime. But it’s not that he’s avoiding the sun, he’s avoiding _people_. He knows there’s something out there, and he’s set on making sure it doesn’t get him, and that no one else knows about it.” 

Sally-Anne looked genuinely surprised, which Hermione took as a good sign. 

“Headmistress, is this true?” Sally-Anne asked, turning her attention back to Umbridge. “Has Minister Fudge really not gone out in the daytime?” 

“Since last June,” Hermione added. 

“That’s preposterous!” Umbridge scoffed. “Of course he has. This is nothing but a conspiracy by some mad children.” 

“No one’s been able to get an interview with him or even a public statement,” Hermione said. “He’s the Minister of Magic, but he hasn’t made any public appearances outside the Ministry offices since last June, almost a year ago.” 

“That’s enough!” 

“He’s not even sending out a doppelganger, so it can’t just be about saving his own skin! If he goes out, and Death Eaters attack him, it’ll prove he’s been hiding something!” 

“Silence!” Umbridge bellowed. 

“I won’t be silent anymore!” Hermione shouted. “I’m not afraid of you! You’ve already turned my home into a _gromphun_ prison camp! You’ve taken my friends prisoner at wand-point! All because you think I really know something? Because Professor Dumbledore’s some evil mastermind? Really?” 

“No one’s saying that,” Sally-Anne said. 

“Why else would she send her goon squad to Gryffindor Tower like that?” Hermione asked. “Why else would they bring you in, apart from Parkinson’s grudge against you? Everyone else likes you, enough that they can look past your blood status, and that’s saying a lot. But no, she asked that we all be taken in.” 

“I didn’t ask that Ms. Perks be taken captive,” Umbridge said. “Only that any co-conspirators be taken as well.” 

“But you’re not surprised.” 

Sally-Anne continued to look between Umbridge and Hermione, evidently not sure who to trust. 

“I know how easily you turn students against me,” Umbridge said. “I’m terribly sorry for what’s happened to you, Traitor, but this isn’t my fault. If Dumbledore hadn’t put those lies into your head, then you’d be fine.” 

“The only person putting lies into my head is High Emperor _Gau Halak_!” 

Umbridge frowned and looked to Sally-Anne for an explanation. 

“It’s what Rose always called Minister Fudge,” Sally-Anne explained. “ _Gau halak_ is some sort of insult.” 

“It means blank page,” Hermione said. “Illumian. Because they value knowledge, and an empty page is considered useless. Just… like… Fudge.” 

Umbridge didn’t seem phased by any of this. She simply smiled to show she was still in control. 

“If you won’t be cooperative, then I’ll need to employ other methods of… encouragement.” 

* * *

Sally-Anne found herself torn. With a wand pointed at her, she had no choice but to cooperate. There was no telling what Parkinson would do to her. Hermione was right, the girl hated Sally-Anne. She was certain Parkinson would hex her for fun if she got the chance. 

“Gonna use veritaserum on me?” Hermione asked with a smirk. 

On cue, Professor Snape opened the door to Umbridge’s office. 

“You wanted to see me, Headmistress?” he asked, taking a quick look at the scene in front of him. 

“Yes, I did!” Umbridge snapped. “Veritaserum. I need it.” 

“We’re out.” 

Sally-Anne didn’t let her relief show on her face. The task was made easier by her realizing that without veritaserum, Umbridge would have to do something else. 

“What was that?” 

“I said we’re out. You’ve used it all to dose students’ tea while you interrogated them.” 

Sally-Anne had never been so grateful to her mum than she was at that moment. 

“Well, what are you standing there for? Go down to your dungeon and make some more!” 

“I can’t,” Snape said. “It takes a full moon-cycle for the batch to mature. Unless you’re planning to poison this lot — although knowing their kind, it won’t work — I can’t help you.” 

“Of course you can!” Umbridge shrieked. “If you won’t, then I hereby place you on probation, Severus! Such a shame, too. Lucius speaks highly of you.” 

“I’m sure.” 

Snape looked over the scene again before leaving. 

“I’ll remind you all that killing students involves a lot of paperwork that none of us wants to do, so do try to avoid that. Although, if you want poison, I’ve always got wicker eye plants. Their nectar tastes like your morning tea and cause any human that ingests it a fatal heart attack.” 

“Fascinating, but you can leave.” 

Sally-Anne caught Snape’s gaze as he left. It was odd. If she didn’t know him better, she would’ve thought he had just threatened Umbridge. In fact, the more she thought about it, she was quite sure that was exactly what he’d done. It wasn’t a stretch to get “kill those students and I’ll kill you” out of his words. 

“Unfortunately, there seems to be a shortage,” Umbridge said after Snape left. “I can still use… other methods.” 

The most terrifying part about it was that Sally-Anne didn’t know what Umbridge planned to do. Umbridge had gone mad. If Hermione was right — and Sally-Anne was becoming increasingly convinced that she was — Fudge did believe Harry and Dumbledore, he just didn’t want anyone to know about it. He was happy keeping himself safe, so long as it didn’t ruin his reputation. He was putting his reputation above the safety of the entirety of Wizarding Britain. 

“It’s important,” Umbridge said, although to whom, Sally-Anne couldn’t tell. It worried her that the answer was likely Umbridge herself. 

“Too important to risk it… no, no, I’ve got to… this is a matter of Ministry security, it must be done.” 

“Headmistress, you’re not well,” Sally-Anne said. “I think everything that’s happened is starting to take its toll on you. Perhaps you should hold us until tomorrow morning, after you’ve gotten some rest.” 

“I’m quite well, Ms. Perks!” Umbridge shrieked in a tone that suggested that she was not well at all. “I know exactly what must be done.” She raised her wand at Hermione. “The Cruciatus Curse ought to do the trick.” 

Sally-Anne found it odd that the only one of her friends that didn’t shout was Hermione. 

“What?!” Harry. 

“Don’t you dare!” Ron. 

“Headmistress, please!” Sally-Anne herself. 

“I’ll incinerate you, _jato_!” Ginny. 

Umbridge’s face bore a sick glee, matched by Parkinson. Sally-Anne glanced at Malfoy, who, to his credit, had a stern, almost unpleasant expression on his face. 

“Headmistress, Minister Fudge wouldn’t want this,” Sally-Anne tried again. “Using an Unforgivable Curse is illegal, not to mention on a student.” 

“Time is of the essence, and if Snape isn’t going to help, then I’ve got to go another route, If you aren’t quiet, Ms. Perks, you’ll be next.” 

Sally-Anne tensed at the threat. She couldn’t fathom the pain the Cruciatus Curse caused. One hit of it had nearly driven Hermione mad. Prolonged exposure had turned Neville’s parents into vegetables. 

“Nothing to say to that, Traitor? No witty remark?” 

Umbridge nodded to Millicent Bulstrode, who held Hermione, and the girl released her. Hermione made no effort to escape. Instead, she laughed. 

“Good bluff. I almost believed you for a moment, but you’re a pencil pusher. You don’t have it in you to use the Unforgivable Curses. You’re an Undersecretary. ‘Chief’ Undersecretary is just a title men give to women they’re trying to f—” 

“ _Crucio!_ ” 

Hermione’s screams filled the office as she fell to the ground. Harry, Ron, and Ginny struggled against their restraints, but the Slytherins held them fast. 

“Tell me what Dumbledore’s planning, and I’ll stop,” Umbridge said firmly. 

“Headmistress!” 

Umbridge didn’t even look up. She held her gaze on Hermione as her knuckles turned white from gripping her wand. 

The scene nearly made Sally-Anne physically ill. It took everything she had to hold together. It wasn’t like at the hospital with Viktor’s family and friends. She couldn’t show weakness, not here in Umbridge’s office. 

After nearly a minute of screams, Umbridge withdrew her wand. 

“Are you ready to talk, Traitor?” 

Hermione lay curled up in a ball, sobbing. 

“It was you… wasn’t it?” she sobbed. “T-that sent that… that Dementor after me and Harry. You wanted to goad him into using a Patronus Charm.” 

Sally-Anne looked from Hermione to Umbridge. 

“It’s funny how it disappeared without doing anything useful,” Umbridge said. 

A mad grin spread across Hermione’s face, accompanied by a matching laugh. 

“Sort of like the Dementors the Ministry sent two years ago. Your idea as well?” 

“No one else has the courage to do what’s necessary,” Umbridge spat. She held up her wand. “But I do. Are you going to talk or not?” 

“ _Grahk d’ka._ ” 

“ _Crucio!_ ” 

Hermione’s screams were accompanied by shouting from everyone else. Sally-Anne tried to think of a way to get out, to defend Hermione, but the Shield rune needed a visible bolt to work. The only two people that might know another way to use it were in the forest or writhing in agony. 

“Headmistress!” 

“Alright!” 

The screams stopped, replaced by more whimpers from Hermione. 

“But… but I need you to come closer. I… I can’t speak louder.” 

“I’ll stay right here, thank you.” 

“The World Cup… those people attacked…” 

“Get to the point, Traitor,” Umbridge said, leveling her wand again. “I’ve got a busy day ahead of me, and I’d like some sleep before it.” 

“A man there… he… he hit me with… with the…” Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and forced the words out. “The Cruciatus Curse.” 

“And your point is?” 

Hermione suddenly stopped sobbing. Her eyes snapped open. 

“Having gone through the curse once, it’s really easy to fake it.” 

Hermione rolled onto her back, flung her hand into the air, and shouted “ _GLITTERDUST!_ ” 

A burst of sparkling glitter erupted in the air, covering the room. Sally-Anne shut her eyes on instinct, recognizing the spell from Rose’s arsenal. Fortunately, all her friends did the same, having gone through similar training and conditioning. 

Even more fortunate was that none of the Slytherins had ever heard of the spell, and thus didn’t think to close their eyes. Blinded by the dust, they recoiled to get the dust out of their eyes. 

Each of her friends bolted for the door. Sally-Anne hesitated, wanting to regroup first, but ran when she saw her friends weren’t going to wait. The dust wouldn’t keep the squad for long, and they all knew it. 

When she reached the gargoyle, she bolted after the only person she could still see: Hermione. 

“What just happened?” she asked. 

“Talk later!” Hermione shouted, sprinting ahead. 

Sally-Anne sped alongside her, hoping Hermione knew where she was going. She tried to keep her mouth shut, but her mind raced with questions. One moment, she’d been watching her friend writhing in pain, then that friend recovered as if it were nothing. 

“What… how?” 

“ _Favor of the Martyr!_ ” she said. “Immune to spells that specifically function by causing pain!” 

“How’d you know it was her that sent that Dementor?” 

“The Ministry might be corrupt, but I don’t think Fudge is that clever,” Hermione replied, bolting down another corridor. “She had means and motive, and clearly doesn’t mind working outside the law.” 

“Where are we going?” 

“Out! If we can get to the forest, we’re safe!” 

“Are you sure?” 

“It shouldn’t be hard to lose them, especially if we find Toad and Moon!” 

“Did you have to swear at Umbridge?” 

“Yes. It made her angry! If she stopped and thought, she might’ve tried it on one of you. She hated me, so she went straight after me.” 

“What about that spell? That was one of Rose’s!” 

“I’ve been working out her magic during Ancient Runes. It was the only time I could guarantee the eyes wouldn’t see it, and Professor Babbling doesn’t mind. Any more questions?” 

Corridor after corridor flew by. Sally-Anne could hardly see where she was going, but she could see Hermione, and that was the important part. Hermione seemed to know exactly where she was going. Come to think of it, knowing Hermione’s resourcefulness, she could see perfectly well in the dark. 

“Where are they?” 

“Find them!” 

“Where’d they go?” 

The corridors carried the voices of the Inquisitorial Squad to her ears, and her heart sped up. Footsteps filled the corridor, and she knew they were on their way. 

“The eyes will be opening soon,” Sally-Anne told Hermione. “It won’t be long before Umbridge removes the privacy effect from me.” 

“Is that attuned to you specifically, or is there some central control?” 

“What?” 

Sally-Anne didn’t need to see Hermione rolling her eyes to know she’d mimicked Rose’s impatient mannerism. 

“Did she cast a spell on you when she put them up?” 

“Yes, that’s when she told us about them and told us to round up the students.” 

“Then she can’t take it down without you being present. So the two of us can go through the castle without being seen.” 

“What about the others?” 

“They’ll have to cope. I’m not worried about Harry and Ron. Harry’s good at stealth, even without his cloak, and they didn’t think we’d hidden our wands up our sleeves the way Muggles hide knives.” 

Sally-Anne frowned. 

“What?” 

“All of us have got small pockets inside our sleeves where we hide our wands. It was Ron’s idea.” 

Sally-Anne smiled, a small sense of pride for Ron coming over her. 

“Good for him,” she said softly. 

Hermione darted around another corner, and Sally-Anne remembered that they were running for their lives. 

“I’m really sorry it got this far. I honestly didn’t expect her to—” 

Sally-Anne clapped her hands over her mouth when Hermione grabbed her and pulled her through a wall. The wall, as it turned out, was fake, and lead to a staircase going down. 

“I doubt they know about this.” 

“They weren’t—” Sally-Anne started, but Hermione covered her mouth and held a finger to her lips. 

“Whisper. They can still hear us.” 

The more she realized how ready her friends were for the inevitable attack, the worse she felt. It’d been obvious to them that Umbridge was mad, but Sally-Anne had fallen for every lie. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Stop trying to apologize, it’s just a waste of energy. We’re only stopping here for a break, then—” 

Malfoy stuck his head into the passage, his wand lit. 

Sally-Anne’s own thoughts drowned out Hermione’s voice. She froze and looked directly at Malfoy. Her mind raced, trying to think of something to say to him. She didn’t take her eyes off him to check on Hermione, or warn her against attacking him. 

Malfoy looked from Hermione to Sally-Anne, holding on Sally-Anne for a moment before returning to the corridor. 

“They’re not here!” he called. 

Sally-Anne slowly let out the breath she’d been holding. The girls tiptoed down the staircase. 

“What was that?” Hermione asked when they got to the bottom. “What’d you do to him?” 

“It’s this new form of magic I’m trying,” Sally-Anne replied. “It’s called ‘being nice’.” 

Hermione rolled her eyes again, and Sally-Anne nearly did the same. 

“Seriously, what did you do?” 

“Draco and I are sort of friends now. He’s not all bad, he just wants someone to care. Actually, he and Ron aren’t all that different. They’d make awful friends, but I think they could come to understand one another if they gave it a chance.” 

They reached the end of the staircase, and Hermione poked her head out. After giving the all-clear, the pair ran down the corridor to another staircase. 

“So he let us go because you understand him?” Hermione scoffed. 

Her scepticism agitated Sally-Anne just a little, but she pushed it aside. It wasn’t the time to be impatient with Hermione, not after she’d just saved them all. 

“No, he let us go because I care about what he wants. No one else does, apart from his house-elf Dobby.” 

“And he’s surprised by this?” 

Sally-Anne took a breath and ended it there. She didn’t blame Hermione. The Draco Malfoy she knew had left them for dead against a troll and mocked them every chance he’d gotten. The Draco Malfoy Sally-Anne knew wanted desperately for his father to tell him he was proud of him. 

It didn’t take them much longer to get to the ground floor and out of the castle. When they reached it, they rendezvoused with the others near the Whomping Willow, which, as Sally-Anne would eventually learn, they’d been discussing the entire time. 

“Any trouble getting out?” Hermione asked. 

“We kept to the shadows the whole way down,” Harry said. “It’s a lot harder to do that while moving fast and not having the map.” 

“We’ll get our things back another time,” Ron said. “They didn’t take our wands or anything Rose gave us, so at least there’s that. For now, we’ve got to keep moving. They’ll be out here soon. I say we lose them in the forest, camp there for the night, and figure things out in the morning.” 

“Agreed,” Harry said. 

“First,” Ron said, turning to Hermione, “how long does it take to draw that rune?” 

He tapped the back of his neck. 

“Why?” Hermione asked, narrowing her eyes. 

“Because Sally-Anne’s with us in this. I know you don’t trust her, but she’s part of our team, and I trust her. How long will it take? We can just remove it tomorrow.” 

“We can just leave her here,” Harry said. “Let her fend for herself like she did to us.” 

It stung to hear Harry talk about her like that. The pain in her chest only became worse when she realized she deserved it. 

“That’s not the way we do things,” Ron said. “Unless you want to explain what you did to Alavel next time you talk to him.” 

Harry narrowed his eyes at Ron. 

Sally-Anne was in shock. For Ron to have come up with that argument was nothing short of surprising. 

“Fine,” Harry said through gritted teeth. “Hermione?” 

“Give me two minutes,” she said. “Sally-Anne, turn around and hold still. It’s hard if you keep moving.” 

Sally-Anne did as she was told. She felt the familiar tingling sensation of a rune being imprinted on her. She looked at Ron and tried to smile without moving her mouth too much. 

“Done,” Hermione said. “Let’s go.” 

<Can you hear me?>

Sally-Anne drew a sharp breath when she heard Ron’s voice in her head. Ginny snickered at her. 

“Sure.” 

<Think your response, don’t say it.>

Sally-Anne concentrated on Ron and thought the words <I hear you.>

<Perfect.>

<How’d you come up with the idea of using Alavel?>

<I don’t know, I just thought of it.>

Sally-Anne had just enough time to spare him a proud glance before Hermione and Harry headed for the forest. The two of them lead the way through the dark, which frustrated Ginny to no end. 

“You can’t just light your wand, they could see us,” Ron hissed. “We don’t need to go far, we just need to get deep enough in that they give up for the night.” 

“And stay out of centaur territory,” Hermione added. “Toad said they nearly killed him for trespassing.” 

“And Dumbledore put one in charge of a class,” Sally-Anne said. 

“Firenze is one of the nice ones,” Hermione said. “Even he admits centaurs are too paranoid about humans, but in fairness, humans have given them every reason to be paranoid.” 

“Like what?” Sally-Anne asked, half irritated, half curious. 

“The Ministry has been cutting back their land slowly for years. They want it in their hands, the centaurs have a claim to it.” 

“Umbridge said she’s tried weeding out the centaurs here, but something keeps stopping her.” 

When Hermione spoke, Sally-Anne could hear her smirk. 

“That’s Luna. She’s been protecting the forest.” 

Harry stopped for a moment. One by one, they stopped behind him. 

<Problem, Skyeyes?> Hermione asked. 

<I thought I sensed something. Move slowly, and stop talking.>

<Ack,> Ron, Ginny, and Hermione replied. 

<What?>

<It’s short for ‘acknowledged’,> Ron explained. <It’s something Rose used to do.>

While Sally-Anne had a lot more sympathy for her friends (at least, she hoped they were friends again), she couldn’t help but wonder if Hermione was still in her right mind. It was as if she were obsessed with Rose. It wasn’t uncommon with grief, but it still troubled her. 

<Wait!>

Sally-Anne glanced at Harry, hoping for more clarification. She still couldn’t see far in front of her through the dark. If the entire Department of Magical Law Enforcement had surrounded them quietly, she wouldn’t have known. 

<What?>

It was impossible to miss the bolt fly out of the darkness. A green flash, heading straight for her. She raised her hand and started to recite one of the incantations for the Shield Rune. But she was too slow for the precision she needed. 

“ _Scotoro!_ ” 

Ron didn’t need precision for his spell. 

His hex knocked them all off their feet. The green bolt shot past her head, narrowly missing her. 

“Everyone up!” Ron shouted, leaping to his feet. 

He held his wand at the ready while they all got up and scanned the darkness. But apart from Harry and Hermione, they were all blind. They stood back to back, covering all possible points of an attack. 

<Sally-Anne!>

With her hand already up and her mind active, Sally-Anne caught the next flash, thanks to Harry’s warning. Another one flew out of the darkness towards Ron, but he sent himself flying out of its path. 

Then Ginny decided she’d had enough of that, and lit up the area with a floating orb of fire. It didn’t generate heat, but gave them the light they needed to see their full situation. 

Sally-Anne couldn’t count all the figures in the dark. But she didn’t need to; they were in trouble with just one of them. 

Each one wore a skull mask and black cloak. 

They were surrounded by Death Eaters. 


	26. One Round to Live

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which people die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** Harry Potter has as many rounds to live as J.K. Rowling says he does… usually.

Hermione knew they were in trouble. It took everything she had to keep down memories of the World Cup. She’d never stood a chance, and they hadn’t been after her. Now, they were surrounded and clearly the targets. 

First, before anything else happened, she had something important to do. It was possibly the most important thing she’d ever done in her life. 

“Told you,” she hissed to Sally-Anne. 

<We’ve got to get back to the castle,> Ron said. 

<But Umbridge—> Hermione started. 

<Is the lesser of two evils. If we’re lucky, they’ll keep each other distracted long enough for us to escape.>

<They’ve got us surrounded,> Harry said. <We’ll have to clear a path.>

Before they could take their plan any further, one of the Death Eaters stepped out from behind the trees. 

“It’s alright, children,” he said in a familiar voice. “We’ve merely come to take you away from this wretched place.” 

Hermione knew the man’s voice, but she couldn’t place it. Where had she heard it? It was calm, smooth, calculated. Like every syllable he spoke had hours of thought put into it to sound perfect. The perfect pitch, the perfect tone, the perfect words, to give them all a sense of safety. 

“Mr. Malfoy?” Sally-Anne asked. 

He waved his wand over his face, his mask vanishing behind it. 

“Sally-Anne Perks, isn’t it?” he asked. “Draco has spoken of you. You’re a reasonable young witch, aren’t you? All we want is Harry Potter, and we’ll be happy to leave the rest of you alone.” 

“As if we would trust you!” Ron spat. “You’re just going to bring him to Voldemort!” 

“You dare speak his name?” another Death Eater screamed. 

Hermione didn’t recognize the voice, but that provided little comfort once Lucius identified the speaker. 

“Calm yourself, Bellatrix,” he said, his icy voice bringing contrast to Lestrange’s fiery tone. “These children aren’t fools. They know they can’t win.” 

As much as it pained Hermione to admit, he was right. They were surrounded, outnumbered, and far outclassed. Between the five of them, they could probably have taken down some of the Death Eaters, but not all of them. Hermione had heard stories about Bellatrix Lestrange and knew she was the worst of them. They didn’t stand a chance against her. 

That didn’t stop her from thinking. Her brain worked slowly. She knew how delicate she was. It took so much out of her to keep down the memories. If they did fight, she’d hardly be of use to anyone. 

She thought about Neville and Luna. They were in the forest somewhere. She’d told Neville where they were. There was no telling what he’d do, but he was likely on his way. They’d be walking straight into a trap, just like they had. 

An oddity occurred to her. Something about the ambush didn’t make sense. 

“How’d you know we’d be here?” Hermione asked, not sure why she thought they’d answer. 

“We have our ways,” Lucius replied. His voice took on a sterner tone. “Be reasonable children. You don’t all have to die here.” 

For a second, Hermione gave his words consideration. They didn’t have to die, not if they gave up Harry. But Harry was her friend, and Lucius Malfoy was a liar. He made his living working and manipulating people. The moment they gave up Harry, the rest of them were dead. The only reason they weren’t open firing on them was because of Harry. Voldemort must’ve ordered them to take him alive. If they fired spells into their bunch, Harry could be hit, and none of them dared to disobey their master. 

“This is for the best,” Lucius said. “Harry, you must have so many questions. Wouldn’t you like to know how that scar really works? How you got it?” 

Hermione glanced at Harry. He touched his scar for a moment, giving Lucius’s words some thought. 

<You can’t be considering it,> Hermione said. <It’s Lucius Malfoy! He’s a liar.>

<Then what do we do?> Ginny asked. 

<I’ve got an idea,> Ron said. <Princess, what is it your mum always says to do when you’re in trouble?>

<Shout fire, why?>

<Ginny? Fire. Sally-Anne? Cover her.>

They all exchanged glances. Hermione took in the faces of her friends. She wished for a moment that she could get a message out to her parents. She wanted to tell them how much she loved them, how thankful she was for them letting her return to Hogwarts. They’d blame everything on Hogwarts, on Dumbledore, on the Ministry. That last one was completely to blame, so that was fair, but it wasn’t Dumbledore’s fault. She wanted to thank Professor Vector for teaching her Arithmancy, for giving her that chance so long ago. 

All she had at that moment, the moment before she knew she’d die, were her friends. 

<Goodbye.>

Ron’s face twitched in a slight grin. 

<See you on the other side.>

“Well, Harry?” Lucius asked. “Are you going to come quietly?” 

Harry glanced at his friends for a moment before replying. 

“No!” 

They all dropped to their feet. Ginny aimed her wand at the sky. 

“ _Confringo!_ ” 

It was much the same as Hermione’s plan at the world cup, but this time, she had people with her. They also had the missing, crucial component from her original plan: a loud bang. 

Sally-Anne slapped her palm to the ground. A dome of energy formed around them, not just absorbing, but reflecting shots from the incoming Death Eaters. They all gasped and cried as they were blinded and deafened. 

“Move!” Ron shouted. 

They all ran for it, as fast as they could. Once again, they didn’t look to check on the others, apart from Sally-Anne and Ginny, both of whom were deafened by the explosion. Ron grabbed Sally-Anne’s hand and kept track of her. Hermione did the same for Ginny. 

Hermione didn’t know where she was going, only deeper into the forest. She hoped she’d come across centaurs, or Acromantulas, or anything to buy them time to get out. 

She heard footsteps behind her. 

<Duck!>

She and Ginny ducked down as spells flew over their heads. They were all green flashes, which meant their opponents were going for the kill. 

Hermione nearly stopped cold when she realized the obvious. 

“ _Death ward_ ,” she whispered. 

Death Eaters were known for tossing around the Unforgivable Curses like they were nothing. But Hermione was immune to all three… probably. She’d never tested _death ward_ against _Avada Kedavra_ before, and if Rose really was dead, then it wouldn’t work. 

_I’m going to die anyway. Might as well learn something before I do._

“I think I can hear again,” Ginny shouted. 

<Not quite,> Hermione replied, dodging another green flash. 

<Where are we going?>

<Away!>

Three Death Eaters appeared in front of them, reminding Hermione that they were outside the wards. 

<But not that way!> Ginny exclaimed. 

The girls broke apart, diving for cover. Green flashes arced like lightning, narrowly missing Ginny, but one struck Hermione. 

It was a strange feeling. Her entire body tingled, forcing her to shiver. She felt cold for a moment, but then everything went back to normal. 

If any of the Death Eaters noticed that she’d been hit, none of them said anything. Hermione wasn’t going to give them the chance to worry about it. She rushed behind a tree and stayed hidden, forcing herself to stay calm. With adrenaline coursing through her, the urge to laugh was almost overwhelming. 

_She’s alive!_

“Come on, little girls,” one of the Death Eaters said. “Come on out.” 

Hermione drew a sharp breath when she heard it, all the joy knocked out of her. She knew that voice. It’d haunted every nightmare she’d had for the past two years. 

<It’s him!>

<Who? Voldemort?>

<That’s the man that attacked me!>

Everything came rushing back to her. Cowering in fear of a man whose name she didn’t know, whose face she’d never seen. Fires burning, people screaming. Some of those screams had been hers. 

Hermione clapped her hand to her mouth to muffle a scream. But the sound was enough to alert them. She hid behind a tree and crouched down, hoping to make herself small enough to hide. 

She felt tears run down her hands and squeezed her eyes shut. 

“ _Confringo!_ ” 

An explosion nearly knocked her off her feet. She saw men sent flying through the trees, crashing into them. Most of them slumped down, unconscious. 

She looked up and saw Ginny, covered in soot, walking through the fires like they were nothing. The girl sidestepped a spell, the flames around her making it impossible to aim. Then she fired a bolt of flame back at the caster, incinerating his wand and part of his hand. 

Hermione realized Ginny was walking towards one of them in particular. 

“You!” he shouted wearily as she approached. “Get away from me!” 

She knew the moment he spoke why Ginny had singled him out. Her mind, five steps ahead of her, urged her to cry out, to stop Ginny, but Hermione was too scared to do anything. 

The man stood up and stumbled back. He fired a spell at Ginny, but she dove out of the way with practiced reflexes. She tumbled to the ground, rolled, stopped, aimed, fired, all in the span of a few seconds. 

A flash of light lit up the forest. 

Hermione struggled to see through the darkness, waiting for her eyes to readjust. It was always worse when she’d given herself night vision, but she saw the figure of that man. At first, she was scared Ginny wouldn’t have a chance to react. After all, the red-head was standing still. 

Then her vision finished adjusting, and she realized that the man’s body didn’t just look black — it was black. 

Bits of him crumbled, and finally the charred remains of the man that had attacked her fell to the ground. 

Ginny got to her feet, her face showing no remorse. 

“Nobody hurts my friends.” 

* * *

Harry ducked behind tree after tree, always staying one step ahead of the Death Eaters. A hail of spells flew around him, always accompanied by calls for him to give himself up. He ignored them and sneaked ahead, hoping to get out of the forest. Still, he had no idea where he was. 

He saw a flash of light not far from him, and recognized Ginny’s voice. Moving quietly, lest he draw too much attention to himself or his friends, he positioned himself to get a clearer view. 

His _blindsight_ picked up several people, but most were moving slightly. He spotted Ginny and Hermione in the darkness, and found that Hermione was cowering behind a tree. 

“You!” a voice shouted. “Get away from me!” 

_Macnair._

He’d paid special attention to that man. The man that he was certain had hurt Hermione. If Rose had been there with them… none of this would’ve happened, but apart from that, Macnair would’ve been… incapacitated at least. 

Ginny tumbled with practiced ease. He was proud of her, up until she launched her counter strike. 

Harry watched, horrified, as Ginny burned Macnair’s body. The man hardly had time to scream. 

Movement nearby tore his attention away from the scene. 

<Sally-Anne, Ron, where are you?>

<Not far from Ginny and Hermione,> Ron said. <I think. I can see Ginny, but I’m not sure about Hermione.>

Harry scanned the area, and picked up movement he was sure was Ron and Sally-Anne. 

<We’ve got to move,> Ron said. <All of us. We’re helpless out here.>

<Speak for yourself,> Ginny said. 

<Hermione, I’m coming to you,> Harry said, knowing it was important to announce himself in the heat of a battle (thanks, Rose). 

Harry crept out of the trees, staying low, and joined Hermione. 

<Are you alright?>

She looked up at him, tears in her eyes. 

<I… I don’t know. Maybe?>

<We’ve got to move,> Harry said. <Like Ron said, we’re helpless, and the rest of the Death Eaters will be here any second.>

<I’m coming to you two,> Sally-Anne said. 

Together, Sally-Anne and Harry helped Hermione to her feet. 

<We need you at your best, Brain,> Sally-Anne said. <Are you alright?>

<Not at my best, but I think I’m fine.>

Ron and Ginny joined them in a moment, then the five of them started moving as a group again. The fires Ginny started were already attracting attention. In under a minute, they had spells flying past them again. 

He heard a series of loud pops, then picked up new movement all around them. Once again, they were surrounded, but this time, the Death Eaters weren’t in the mood to negotiate. Spells flew at them from all directions. 

Sally-Anne blocked the first round, but Harry could hear her panting. She didn’t have it in her to block another one. 

“Last chance!” Lucius said. “Why don’t you give up now? Save us all the trouble.” 

Harry did want to now how he’d been connected to Voldemort. There were so many questions, questions Alavel couldn’t have answered, all that had answers that Dumbledore would never tell him. He looked at his friends. Would giving himself up really save them? 

<Same trick won’t work twice,> Ron said. <I’ve got a few ideas, but they’re all long shots.>

<I’ll go with them,> Harry said. <It’s our only chance.>

Ignoring the cries from his friends in his head, he stepped forward, arms raised in surrender. 

“I’ll go with you!” he shouted. “Just let my friends go.” 

Lucius stepped out of the shadows. 

“A wise decision.” 

Harry took a few steps towards Lucius before another voice came from behind the line of Death Eaters. 

“I’m sorry, Lord Skyeyes, but I can’t allow you to do that.” 

A golden figure bounded over the line of Death Eaters, knocking several of them down as he flew through the air. 

Alavel landed beside Harry, standing tall, swords drawn and at the ready. 

“As for you, Mr. Malfoy, this young man is under our protection.” 

Harry picked up more movement above them, four distinct patterns. 

Taltria landed on another group of Death Eaters, taking them all down, then ran to another group. 

Tutela tackled another group as Harry’s friends moved towards him and Alavel. 

“My apologies for the delay,” Alavel said. “We had to wait for you all to stop moving before we announced our presence, although we did what we could from the shadows.” 

More Death Eaters fired spells at their group, but another figure landed between them and the spells. He whipped a familiar sword around in an arc, sending the spells flying towards the ground. 

“Thanks for the message,” Neville said to Hermione. “I hope you don’t mind, I brought a few friends to the party.” 

Harry almost didn’t recognize the last figure to fall. If he hadn’t already seen Tutela, he wouldn’t have realized it was Luna. 

By the light of another flash orb that Ginny threw up, he saw a mask on Luna’s face. It looked like a Guy Fawkes mask, for whatever reason (he was sure Rose had something to do with that), but the real feature was the rest of her. Whatever wasn’t covered by tattered clothing was covered in runes. But not normal, runic tattoos like Sally-Anne’s Shield Rune. These _shifted_. Harry thought it was the light at first, but he realized that the lines on her were moving around her body, forming into new runes. 

She dodged around a spell, then lines raced to her hands. They formed a strange pattern, and claws grew from Luna’s fingers. 

After getting over the shock of everything happening, they all got to work. Alavel went into the fray, never straying far from Harry. Harry stayed back, picking off any incoming threats to Alavel. 

Luna and Neville stayed close to Hermione, keeping an eye on her, while Tutela stayed by Sally-Anne and Ron, providing them cover while they provided everyone else cover. 

For the first time that night, Harry actually felt like they had a chance. 

* * *

Hermione’s hands still shook, but she forced herself to stay calm. She refused to allow herself to become a liability again, and to think about what Ginny had done. With her focus on Luna and Neville, she provided what support she could. 

“Magical ink, right?” she asked Luna. “That’s why you ran here? There are herbs in the forest that must be used. It’s in your mum’s notes!” 

“And the other runes redraw them,” Luna said, forming another rune on her hand. She waved her hand in a circle, creating a whirlwind in front of her. 

“And of course you had to remake Shadow’s mask,” Hermione said. 

“I didn’t want them to think I was too human,” Luna said. “Most people in the forest don’t like humans.” 

As she spoke, the mask melted into her face. 

“Still me.” 

“What about you?” she asked Neville as he blocked another shot. “Where have you been?” 

“Looking for her.” He nodded towards Luna. “She’s gotten good at hiding here. Found her this morning.” 

The three of them stood back-to-back, knocking spells away or sending them back. Hermione spared Rose a thought. She would’ve been so proud of them. 

A volley of spells came flying at the three of them. Neville and Luna blocked what they could, but another spell sent them flying apart. 

“Don’t I know you?” Lestrange asked Neville as she approached them. 

“You,” he hissed. 

He leapt to his feet and charged her, sword drawn. 

“Toad!” Luna cried. 

Hermione couldn’t follow Lestrange’s hands. They flew around in the air, then a tree slammed into Neville. Lestrange sent it around the battlefield, scattering the rest of them. 

“No!” Luna cried again. 

She raised her hand and detonated the tree. Splinters flew everywhere, but Hermione got another idea. 

Hermione immobilized the splinters, then sent them flying at Lestrange. 

Lestrange lit them on fire before they could reach her, resulting in smoldering piles of ash falling uselessly around her. 

“I know you!” she exclaimed, her attention still on Neville. “I drove your parents mad, didn’t I! And now you’re here, about to die! Such a small world.” 

Neville climbed to his feet, then charged her again. This time, Lestrange cut the ground out from underneath him. He jumped to avoid it, but another spell sent him hurtling back to the ground. He struggled to get to his feet, but Lestrange entangled him in a pile of roots. 

An idea struck Hermione, one that had occurred to her before, but she’d never had the chance to prepare it for battle. She began to move her hands around one another. The strange gestures for her spell made it nearly unusable in combat without a distraction. 

Luna ran at Lestrange, runes forming on her hands to grow claws. 

“Look at this one,” Lestrange said. “Is this love? I hate love.” 

She whipped her arm around and hurled a black mist at Luna, striking her in the eyes before she’d had a chance to dodge. 

Luna screamed and fell to the ground, clutching her face. 

“Moon!” 

Neville tried to get up, but Hermione finished her spell first. She spread her arms wide, then thrust them upward, reversing the local gravity around Lestrange. 

Distracted by Neville and Luna, Lestrange didn’t have time to react before Hermione’s spell flung her into the air. She fired another spell at Hermione, who brought up a piece of earth to block it. 

Behind her, the others were handling the remaining Death Eaters. With Lestrange mostly neutralized, they’d won. 

“Oh come on, Belly, really? She’s just a little girl. Can’t you do anything right?” 

Another Death Eater appeared next to Hermione and knocked her to the ground. 

“See?” the new arrival, a woman judging by her voice, asked. “See how easy that was? Why is it that it’s just you that can’t do what our lord asks? I even told you where they’d be!” 

“What are you doing here?!” Lestrange screamed. “Get out of here, Lux!” 

“I’m here to clean up your mess before our lord arrives,” the other woman, Lux, said. 

She crouched down to look at Hermione, her mask vanishing when she did. Her blonde hair stuck out from around her hood. 

“You’re not so tough, are you?” 

Hermione’s vision was blurry from the knock to the head, but she swore she saw it. Even in what small light they had, it was clear as day, glinting in the firelight. 

Hanging from the woman’s neck was a gold locket with an emerald ’S’ on it. 

“Which one are you again?” Her eyes scanned Hermione before a smile crept over her face. “Right, Brain. Perhaps next time, _Brain_ , you won’t be so useless.” 

Hermione heard the words, but she wasn’t registering anything apart from that locket. It couldn’t have been, but the evidence was right in front of her eyes. 

Lux glanced down and tucked the locket away. Then she smirked at Hermione. 

The last things Hermione remembered before passing out were the word “sleep” and that smug _jato_ face. 

* * *

Harry saw the newcomer attacking Hermione and ran to help. 

With Hermione out, her spell on Lestrange wore off, and the woman fell to the ground. 

“You can’t even fall properly,” Lux sneered. 

She spared a glance at the rest of the battlefield, reached her left hand into her robes, and drew her wand. 

They never stood a chance. 

Harry tried to disarm her, but she apparated before he could. His spell flew through the empty space she’d once occupied. 

She appeared behind them and waved her wand. A wave of energy flew from her, accompanied by a loud bang, knocking them all off their feet. 

Harry struggled to look around, but he couldn’t see anyone still standing. 

Then _he_ arrived. 

The shadows drew away from him as he stepped out of the darkness. His eyes burned red in the dying light. He didn’t walk, he drifted over the ground. 

Lux, the only Death Eater still standing, bowed to him on one knee as he entered. 

“My Lord,” she said. 

He made little acknowledgment of her. Instead, he surveyed the battlefield. 

“It seems I was right to send you, Lux,” he said, his voice like ice. “My faithful servant, you have done well.” 

Harry’s forehead burned. He struggled to put a hand to his scar, but he found himself too weak. 

Voldemort’s face turned into a smile when he spotted Harry. 

“There you are. So good to see you again, Harry.” 

He drifted over to Harry, who tried to back away from him. 

“Hardly good form to kill you like this,” Voldemort said, raising his wand. “But you’ve given my disciples quite the trouble, I see.” 

A blast of fire flew through the air, but Voldemort waved his wand without breaking his gaze on Harry and broke the fire apart. 

Then he turned his gaze on Ginny. Without hesitation, he aimed his wand at her, and her own wand erupted. 

Ginny grunted as splinters dug into her arm, tearing it up. She clutched it with her good hand, still struggling to climb to her feet. 

Voldemort’s attention returned to Harry, and he raised his wand. 

“Goodbye, Harry Potter. Remember, this is merely self-preservation. After all, neither of us can live while the other survives.” 

A green flash flew out of Voldemort’s wand, striking a shimmering disc that appeared in the air. 

Voldemort turned towards Sally-Anne this time and saw her hand still outstretched. 

His face twisted in anger, and he fired another spell at Sally-Anne. 

Sally-Anne screamed and clutched the stump where her left hand had been a moment ago. 

“Harry!” she cried. 

“Enough distractions,” Voldemort said, raising his wand again. “I tire of these games.” 

Something flew over Harry’s head and knocked Voldemort back. When the object landed, Harry saw a pair of dark red boots attached to a body of gold armor. 

“My apologies once again, Lord Skyeyes, I seemed to have been stunned.” He turned his attention to Voldemort. “As for you, Mr. Riddle, I’m afraid if you want to harm him, you’ll have to go through me.” 

Voldemort fired a spell at Alavel, but Alavel ducked under it and cut into Voldemort. With another swing of his sword, he knocked his opponent to his knees. 

As Voldemort moved to his feet, Alavel knocked him back again, sending him sprawling once more. 

“Lux!” Voldemort cried. The ice was gone from his voice, and Harry was certain Voldemort was angry. “Take care of this!” 

Lux walked up behind Voldemort and pulled her hood down. 

“As you wish, My Lord.” 

Alavel didn’t waste any time. He swung at Lux, but she moved his blade aside with a wave of her wand. After avoiding Alavel’s second sword with equal ease, she fired a green ray at his left leg, turning it to dust. 

“Alavel!” Harry cried. 

Alavel fell to his knee, but kept his gaze on his attacker. 

“Lord Skyeyes,” Alavel said. “It has been my honor to be your friend.” 

He swung his swords at her again, but with a single touch of her wand, Alavel’s shoulder exploded, taking off his left arm. He stumbled again, struggling to stay upright. 

With that same smirk on her face, Lux touched her wand to Alavel’s chest. She held it there for a moment during which she locked eyes with Alavel. 

Red cracks formed around Alavel’s body. The gold metal around them turned black for a moment. 

Harry could hear his heart beating in his chest, could feel the tears running down his cheeks. He wanted to attack her, but he couldn’t move. His legs wouldn’t move, his arms were numb. Everything felt like he’d been laying on it, and it’d all fallen asleep. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t do anything to help Alavel. He couldn’t do anything to stop it. 

All he could do was watch helplessly as Alavel exploded. 

“NO!” he screamed. 

Tears in his eyes, he struggled to get up. He was going to make that woman pay. Even if Voldemort killed him, he’d make that woman pay. 

He could still hear Alavel’s voice in his head. He could still see that gaze that could see inside his soul. That friendly voice, lifting him up, showing him how to be a good person, teaching him forgiveness. It was all gone. 

Harry felt sick, but adrenaline took hold, and he got to his feet. 

Lux didn’t say anything. She just stepped back to allow Voldemort through, then bowed again as he passed. 

“I’ll kill you!” Harry screamed. “I’ll kill all of you!” 

“That’s it, Harry,” Voldemort said, the ice returned to his voice. “Don’t fight it. You’re just like me. Remember that.” 

Harry raised his wand, but another voice stopped him from attacking. 

“That’s far enough, Tom.” 

Dumbledore stepped out of the shadows not far from Harry. Behind Dumbledore, Harry sensed at least 20 people. Then more arrived from behind Harry, although these didn’t move like humans. 

“You’ve all trespassed in this forest,” Magorian said. 

Harry heard the sound of arrows attached to bows. 

“Kill any that move.” 

Because no one had any good sense of timing, a third group emerged from the trees, although this one was far less composed than the Order or the centaurs. 

“No one move!” Umbridge shouted. “You’re all—” 

Fudge came up behind her and gave an equally surprised gasp. 

Voldemort looked at each of the new arrivals, then turned back to Harry. 

“Another time, Harry Potter.” 

Voldemort and Lux vanished. The remaining Death Eaters all followed suit, leaving Harry and his friends with three armies in the clearing they’d created. 

The assembled Aurors with Fudge and Umbridge began to whisper to one another. 

“He’s back!” one of the Aurors shouted. 

“No, really?” Ron exclaimed. 


	27. Salutations!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Umbridge pays her dues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling owns the Ministry of Magic and remains immune to any investigation.

The Aurors drew their wands. The Order drew theirs. Centaurs drew their bows and took aim. 

“Lower your weapons!” Fudge demanded. 

“After you!” one of the centaurs shot back. 

“There’s no need for any of this,” Dumbledore said. “Let’s all calm down—” 

“Dumbledore, you’re under arrest!” Fudge snapped. “As soon as those things drop those primitive weapons, we’ll—” 

“Primitive, are we?” the lead centaur shouted. He rose up to his full height, towering over the children. 

Ron looked from the centaurs, to the Order, to the Ministry, then back to his friends. Sally-Anne needed help immediately. It was simple to reattach her hand, but he was more worried about the blood she was losing. Luna and Hermione needed attention sooner rather than later. Hermione hardly moved, and there was no telling what that curse Lestrange had hit Luna with was doing to her. 

“This is Ministry land!” 

“This is our forest!” 

“Everyone calm down!” 

“What are those things doing here?” 

“If they try anything—” 

“—we’ll strike you first if—” 

“This isn’t helping! If everyone just—” 

“One of them’s going to fire!” 

“Everyone just—” 

“ _QUIET!_ ” 

The scream was physically painful to hear. Everyone that could clapped their hands to their ears. Everyone that couldn’t winced at the sound. 

Ron, and everyone else, turned to stare at Luna. The usually quiet girl was red faced and panting. 

“Thank you, Ms. Lovegood,” Dumbledore said. He turned back to the Order. “Lower your wands. We don’t need them just now.” 

Without so much as a questioning glance, his assembled troupes followed his orders. 

“Magorian,” he said, turning his attention to the lead centaur, “why are you so far out of centaur territory?” 

“We’re looking after our own.” 

“You’re the only halfbloods here!” Umbridge snapped. “If you don’t—” 

“We are not only loyal to centaurs,” Magorian said. “But what would a simple-minded human know of loyalty?” 

“You—” 

“I called them,” Luna said, raising her voice ever so slightly. “They’re here for me.” 

Ron frowned at Luna, knowing better than to look at a centaur the wrong way. Centaurs were proud creatures. They’d exiled Firenze for teaching at Hogwarts. Since when did they accept a human as one of their own? 

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Umbridge said. “These—” 

“Losha is a creature of this forest,” Magorian said. “She has earned our loyalty. We will take her back to our camp and tend to her.” 

“You can’t!” Neville shouted. “She’s not— I mean—” 

“It’s alright, Neville,” Sally-Anne panted. “With her eyes like that, there won’t be anything we can do anyway. Trust me, Viktor’s eyes looked exactly like that, but there’s a chance they can help her.” 

_No there isn’t,_ Ron thought. Centaurs didn’t heal crippling wounds like that. They exiled the cripple. It was a weakness, and a weak centaur was considered a worthless centaur. If it was the same curse that had taken Viktor’s eyes, like Sally-Anne had said, then the only thing they could do was to cut out her eyes. 

Worse yet, according to Firenze, the centaurs believed Luna to be some sort of spirit. They must’ve realized by now that she was human. 

“They won’t hurt me,” Luna said. As she spoke, her face turned too wood, and features of a mustached man formed on it. “I’ll be fine.” 

“No one’s going anywhere!” Fudge shouted. “As of this moment, you are all under arrest for crimes against the Ministry!” 

Ron froze, not sure what to do. It seemed like it’d be better to wait and allow events to play out, rather than antagonize the Ministry. 

“You _gau halak_!” Taltria shouted. “You saw Voldemort here not ten minutes ago!” 

“I didn’t see anything,” Fudge said. 

“Only a fool denies the evidence of his eyes!” Magorian shouted. 

“He attacked us, Minister,” Sally-Anne said, holding up the stump that had once held her left hand. “He took off my hand, destroyed Ginny’s wand. He tried to kill Harry, he… one of his followers… killed our friend, Alavel.” 

“Nonsense!” Umbridge again. 

“Ms. Perks, as highly as Headmistress Umbridge has spoken of you, you must be—” 

From there, people began shouting again. Magorian threw insults towards Fudge about his leadership, Moody tossed a few scoffs around, and Ron himself nearly lost it. 

Then he got a better idea. 

“Article Five of the Decree for the Humane Treatment of Underage Fugitives!” he shouted. 

At first, judging by the blank stares he received from many of the Aurors, he wondered if none of them knew about the DHTUF. It was obscure enough that he’d only happened upon it by chance. 

“‘Any injuries must be tended to before passing judgment’,” Kingsley said, stepping forward. “He’s right, Minister. These children need treatment before we take this any further.” 

“A minor detail,” Umbridge said. 

“If you don’t follow your own rules,” Sally-Anne said, nodding towards the centaurs, “why should they?” 

Fudge stared at Magorian for a moment, but was overruled by one of his own. 

“Anderson,” a voice that sounded an awful lot like Madame Bones said, “tend to that girl, the one that just spoke. Stabilize her, then get her back to the castle. They’ve got better supplies there.” 

“If you—” Umbridge hissed. 

“We’re out in the field, so I outrank you,” Bones shot back, shoving her way to the front of the pack. “And for the record, I saw Voldemort here tonight, and I’m not about to stay quiet about it.” She turned to one of the Aurors. “Anderson! I gave you an order!” 

One of the men pushed his way through, careful to avoid the gaze of Fudge and Umbridge. He crouched down beside Sally-Anne and tenderly examined her arm. 

“Magorian!” Bones shouted, careful not to look the centaur in the eye. “If you would be so kind, I believe Losha needs you.” 

Tutela trotted to Luna’s side and led her to Magorian. 

“No one—” Umbridge shouted, but Tutela cut her off with a loud bark. 

“I’d be careful if I were you, human,” Magorian said with arrogance in his voice. “I’ve seen that dog bite clean through an acromantula that crossed that girl, and she shrugs off arrows as if they’re mere twigs.” A cruel smile formed on his face. “So by all means, try and stop us.” 

Umbridge glared at Magorian as he turned to leave. 

“Moon!” 

Neville ran to her side and took her hand. 

“I’ll be alright, Toad.” 

“But they—” 

“They know I’m human. They have for some time. Centaurs are superstitious, but they’re not stupid.” 

Ron glanced at Bones and saw her glaring at Umbridge, daring her to say something. 

Luna’s mask melted back into her face, and she smiled at Neville. She laid her hands on his face, then leaned in and kissed his cheek. “I’ll see… I’ll be back soon.” 

She walked off with the centaurs, leaving Ron’s group, the Order, and the Ministry to fend for themselves. After watching them for a moment, Ron moved to Sally-Anne’s side. 

“Will she be alright?” 

“I hope so, because she’s still here,” Sally-Anne said. 

“She’ll be fine,” Anderson said. “It’s a clean cut, so we just need to get her to Madame Pomfrey. Should be easy enough to reattach her hand.” 

“Brilliant,” Sally-Anne said. “Would you please check on Hermione? The unconscious girl right over there.” 

She motioned towards Hermione’s unconscious body, where she lay next to Harry. By then, Sirius had found his way to Harry’s side. Anderson followed suit and checked over Hermione. 

“That was brilliant,” Sally-Anne whispered to him. “How’d you think of that article?” 

“Just something I’ve read,” Ron said. “I’m glad I was finally able to use some of it.” He motioned towards her hand. “Are you alright?” 

She smiled weakly. “It hurts, but I’ll be alright. Once they finish shouting at one another, we’ll move to the castle, and they’ll take care of me there.” She glanced over at Hermione when the girl stirred. “I’m really not the worst off.” 

* * *

It took time, but they were finally relocated to the Hospital Wing. Madame Pomfrey reattached Sally-Anne’s hand, tended to Ginny’s arm, and checked them all over for good measure. 

“I’m fine, it was just a sleep spell,” Hermione whined when Madame Pomfrey kept looking her over. 

When she was finally left alone, she returned to the matter on her mind: Lux. How did she have that locket? How’d she know to put Hermione to sleep? It was the only thing that worked on her with _favor of the martyr_. 

Hermione stared at the ceiling until the sun peeked through the windows of the Hospital Wing. She didn’t understand how Lux could have the locket. It couldn’t have been the same one Rose had. Rose’s body was unreachable, buried under waves somewhere in the Arctic Circle. No one knew where her body rested. 

Worse was that she knew that name. Aurora Lux was a doppelganger from Rose’s world. Travel between their worlds was impossible. Had Lux been there all along? She was likely powerful enough to use _discern location_ , and, having met Rose, she’d be able to locate her body. 

_She’s a Factotum. What can a Factotum do?_

She wracked her brain for information on Factotums, and came up with a troubling answer: anything. They weren’t as powerful as Artificers, or even Wizards, Clerics, or Druids, but they could fill any role. That’s what Rose had told her. They used intelligence and cunning to replicate other abilities, even spells. 

With magic items, anything was possible. _Discern location_ and _mountain hammer_ would’ve helped her find Rose’s body, break open the coffin, and steal whatever she wanted. 

Except that didn’t make any sense either. Lux had run with the Exalted for a time. She knew their equipment only functioned for them, even though she hadn’t been told who’d made it. To be a Factotum, you had to be clever, and Aurora Lux was one of the best. So why get into Rose’s coffin at all? She must’ve known there’d be nothing inside of use to her. 

Adding to her turmoil was Taltria. Hermione had caught her muttering under her breath about the “smug _jato_ ”, which is what Rose had always called Aurora Lux. That meant she’d recognized her face, which meant it really had been the same face. 

A knock on the open door to the Hospital Wing distracted her from her thoughts. 

Fury coursed through her. She prepared to defend herself. 

“Well, now,” Umbridge said, “all of my worst students in one place. How fortunate for me, wouldn’t you say?” 

“Get out,” McGonagall said, rising slowly from her bed. “These children have been through enough.” 

“Whatever do you mean?” Umbridge frowned. “Oh, I’m sorry. Have they been telling you more of their lies? They are awfully naughty children. They ran right into the forest to escape punishment.” 

“There were at least 50 witnesses last night that saw Voldemort in the forest,” Hermione said. “You can’t keep it quiet now!” 

Umbridge’s smile told her she had every intention of keeping it quiet. 

“Oh, but I can, Traitor. The Ministry controls everything.” 

“You can’t!” Ron exclaimed. 

“Headmistress, people need to know!” Sally-Anne added. “To protect themselves!” 

“The Ministry will protect them. They needn’t do it themselves. Could you imagine what would happen if everyone tried? It’d be chaos.” 

Hermione narrowed her eyes. Something was off about her. Hermione had spent months glaring at that smug face, but it wasn’t the same. She smiled as if she were in control, but she wasn’t as well kept as she’d been. Something was making her nervous. 

<Harry, does something look off about her to you?>

Across the room, Harry quit his staring contest he was having with the bed sheets and glanced at Umbridge. A few seconds later, he nodded to Hermione. 

“All of you are required to stay at Hogwarts over the holiday,” Umbridge said. “I will oversee your education personally from now on. Minerva, you will be moved to St. Mungo’s. You no longer work at Hogwarts. Effective immediately.” 

Hermione heard footsteps from behind Umbridge. It was more Aurors, she knew it. Come to enforce the will of their so-called headmistress. 

“I do hope, Dolores, that I didn’t hear your voice just now,” a new, female voice said. “It’d make it awfully hard for me to do my job if you’re intimidating my witnesses.” 

A short, older woman with long black hair stepped into the Hospital Wing. She adjusted the spectacles she wore as she surveyed the students. 

“Of course not,” Umbridge said. The honey-smooth condescension disappeared from her voice, and contempt took its place. 

Hermione had no idea who this woman was, but Umbridge hated her, so Hermione decided she liked her. 

“Good morning, everyone,” the woman said. “My name is Monrotia Ins. I’m with the department of internal affairs at the Ministry of Magic.” 

Hermione could hardly control her laughter. It was happening! Somehow, someone had triggered an investigation into Hogwarts! It was the one thing she’d wanted more than anything else in the past several months. That, or Rose to come back to life. 

_Be careful what you wish for,_ she told herself. 

“As of this morning, I’m conducting an investigation of select individuals.” Ins turned to Umbridge. “Individuals who should’ve received an owl this morning about my investigation, and thus shouldn’t be speaking with anyone in this room.” 

Hermione realized she knew exactly who’d triggered the investigation. She glanced at Sally-Anne and realized she’d been telling the truth. 

“This is a waste of time,” Umbridge said. “Hogwarts is running smoothly and efficiently.” 

“Your transfigurations professor is lying in that bed over there,” Ins said flatly. 

Hermione pressed her lips together. It was all she could do not to smile. 

“I will be speaking with each of you in turn,” Ins said. “Professor McGonagall, that includes you as well. If anyone apart from me associated with the Ministry attempts to speak with any of you, tell them nothing, and find me immediately. I’ve already settled myself in, and I’ve gotten an account of the past 24 hours from several of your staff.” 

“Have you had something to eat yet?” McGonagall asked. “If you’d like, we can talk in my office at once. There’s always tea and biscuits waiting.” 

She began to climb out of bed when Madame Pomfrey materialized and seemed to grow three feet taller. Her glare could’ve made a basilisk weep. 

“That won’t be necessary,” Ins said, adjusting her spectacles. “But I appreciate the offer, nonetheless. After Madame Pomfrey believes you all well enough, I’ll speak with you. If you don’t recover before we all need to leave, then I’m sure we can make other arrangements.” 

Ins turned back to Umbridge. 

“Dolores, if you would please leave us.” 

Behind Ins’s polite voice was a menacing look that dared Umbridge to try defying her. 

Umbridge scowled, looking a lot like Malfoy, then left the Hospital Wing. 

Hermione decided she’d found a new hero. 

* * *

Sally-Anne had a strange feeling walking into the Ms. Ins’s office. A woman seated behind a desk was offering her tea. A Ministry official, no less. 

“Ms. Perks.” 

_Don’t do that._

“Would you prefer Ms. Perks or Sally-Anne?” 

Under normal circumstances, Sally-Anne would’ve preferred to be called Ms. Perks, but these weren’t normal circumstances. After everything she’d been through with Umbridge, she welcomed a little informality. 

“Sally-Anne, please.” 

Ins nodded, and a quill started scribbling on a piece of parchment. 

“Sally-Anne, you were considered Umbridge’s right hand. Would you agree?” 

Sally-Anne frowned at the thought. 

Ins picked up on her discomfort. 

“I’m not here to pass judgment on you. The information you provided was crucial in aiding my investigation. Most of my job now is simply confirming what you’ve already told us.” 

“Then why talk to me?” 

“Umbridge made you her lieutenant. Do you know why?” 

Sally-Anne had little intention of assisting any further than she already had. It gave her a bad feeling, and she just wanted it all to be over. 

“No.” 

Ins wrote something down independently of the quill. 

“Can you recount the events of the past few days?” 

Sally-Anne walked her through the past few days, starting from the time she’d written the letter. She included everything, up until the moment she and Hermione escaped Hogwarts. It became harder when she reached that part. The thought of Umbridge, the woman she’d trusted, trying to torture her friends. The image of Lux ripping Alavel apart. She hadn’t been able to get any of it out of her head. 

“And then?” 

“We ran into the forest, encountered Death Eaters, and they killed Alavel.” 

“But you survived?” 

This was another reason Sally-Anne didn’t want to talk. There was so much she couldn’t explain, and she didn’t want people to put everything she’d gone through under a microscope and tell her it was all a lie. 

“Obviously.” 

Ins wrote something else on her parchment. 

“Ms. Perks, I’m not here to question what you told me. There were enough reports from other students about what Umbridge did, and I’ve already spoken with the staff. They all confirmed that they were required to refer to certain students as ‘Traitor’ or ‘Criminal’.” 

“That’s Hermione Granger and Harry Potter, respectively.” 

Ins held her glare on Sally-Anne, then wrote something without looking away. 

“I’m not questioning that you saw He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in the forest. But I want to make sure I’ve got the whole story.” 

Sally-Anne held up her hand and pointed to the scar on her wrist. 

“Voldemort could’ve killed me. He could’ve killed all of us, but he only cared about Harry. So he cut off my hand to stop me from helping Harry.” 

Ins nodded. 

“That will have to wait.” She looked down at part of her notes and circled something. “Can anyone collaborate on Umbridge using the Cruciatus Curse on Hermione Granger?” 

“In that room with me were Hermione herself, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle… I can give you the list, but you should already have it. It’s just the Inquisitorial Squad.” 

Ins made another note by hand. 

“But you said she recovered.” 

“You’d have to ask her. She told me something about some spell, but I can’t recall it.” 

Sally-Anne struggled to stay sitting up straight. It’d been a long day. All she wanted to do was go home. The thought of her own home, her bed, it was all so welcoming. It wouldn’t be any better; it wouldn’t change what she’d done, but at least she’d be alone. 

“I’ll have to speak with them,” Ins said. “Thank you, Sally-Anne, for everything you’ve done. You may go.” 

Sally-Anne smiled as well as she could, then got up to leave. Her hand was on the doorknob when Ins called her. 

“Sally-Anne?” 

Sally-Anne turned back. 

“I can’t speak to whether Umbridge was wrong, but Ministry officials have lied before. I hope you won’t blame yourself for what she did.” 

Sally-Anne shook her head. 

“I don’t. I only blame myself for everything I did.” 

She left the makeshift office, dreading to think which glaring, accusing face it would be waiting to go in. It’d been nonstop as far as she could tell, and she couldn’t bear the thought of facing one of her friends. 

To her delight, it was the one person in all of Hogwarts that didn’t hate her. 

“Hello, Malfoy.” 

Malfoy stood up and looked at her. 

“Perks.” 

Sally-Anne smiled. 

“I never got the chance to say it, but thank you for letting me and Hermione go.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

His face looked almost exactly like his father’s. Then he grinned. 

“But if I did, I’d say it was to repay you for making me realize I didn’t have to tolerate Parkinson.” 

A strange warmth came over her. 

“I don’t now what you’re talking about either,” she said, although she was certain it sounded better when he’d said it. “But if I did… I’d say my friends call me ‘Princess’ or ‘Sally-Anne’, not Perks.” 

_At least, they did back when I had friends._

“Alright… Princess.” 

She smiled, even though she was sure he was mocking her. 

“What about you? What do your friends call you?” 

“I haven’t got friends.” 

She frowned. 

“What about Crabbe and Goyle?” 

“They’re just henchmen. Father says it’s important to have henchmen, but not to be attached to them. That way, you won’t feel bad about getting rid of them if necessary.” 

“That’s an awful way to look at it. If you treat them as if they’re disposable, they’ll feel like you’re disposable. Muggle servants heard everything that went on in their estate. They were privy to all the horrible secrets their lords and ladies held, but the clever ones understood that. Henchmen are probably the same way. They pick up on more than they let on. If you treat them with dignity, they’ll be loyal. The best servants would probably outlast torture to protect their masters.” 

Malfoy stared at her while chewing on her words. She could almost see his mind churning away, considering the possibilities of what she’d said. That, or he was about to have an existential crisis and pass out like she had when she’d found out about the Dementors’ Kiss. 

_Remember, Sally-Anne,_ she told herself as she’d done many times since, _it’s God. Magic can’t bypass God._

“Call me ‘Draco’.” 

Sally-Anne returned her focus to Malfoy. 

“Only when no one’s around,” he added quickly. “I can’t have people thinking I’ve gone soft on a mu— Muggle-born.” 

Sally-Anne caught herself before she laughed. 

“And don’t you dare call me ‘Butterhead’!” he snapped. 

It took everything in her not to burst out laughing. 

“Have a good summer… Draco.” 

* * *

When Ins kicked Umbridge out, most of the school gathered to watch. Hermione hoped Colin was taking pictures. She wanted to remember that moment forever. 

Umbridge was furious. Her calm, controlling demeanor was gone, and she looked like the gremlin she was. 

The students crowded around her as she walked out, followed closely by Ins. Hermione imagined Umbridge in handcuffs, and it made her smile even more. 

As she walked by, Umbridge caught Hermione’s gaze. 

Hermione winked at her and dispelled the illusion she’d kept in place for months. 

The word “traitor” faded from her forehead, along with any traces of dignity Umbridge had left. 

Umbridge clenched her fists and glared at Hermione. Her lips curled back and she snarled one word: “mudblood”. 

“We don’t use that language in Hogwarts,” Professor Vector said from her place behind Hermione. “I’ll add it to your list of transgressions against Hermione here.” 

Hermione knew it’d been a bad year when the sound of Professor Vector calling her by her real name became euphoric. 

Umbridge held her glare on the pair of them. 

Ins cleared her throat to nudge Umbridge along. 

With a final glare at Hermione, Umbridge turned towards the door. Once she and Ins left Hogwarts, the doors closed behind them. 

Roars of applause filled Hogwarts. It was as if the castle itself was happy to see her go. Celebrations lasted well into the night. That was fine with Hermione. She was happy to celebrate with everyone. Because the following day, the real work would begin. 

* * *

The moment breakfast ended, Hermione ran straight up to the top floor and arrived at Professor Dumbledore’s office. 

“Move!” she shouted at the gargoyle. 

It didn’t budge. 

“Two years ago, Rose Peta-Lorrum smashed you to bits because you were in her way.” Hermione flung her hand at the wall, and the wall exploded. “I’m giving you something she never did: a warning.” 

The gargoyle glared at her, then dove aside to allow her passage. 

“Much appreciated.” 

After everything that had happened the past week, she wasn’t sure she was going to find Professor Dumbledore in his office. Whoever she found, she figured she could convince them to tell her where to find him. 

To her pleasure, she found Professor Dumbledore talking with Kingsley Shacklebolt, a recovering Professor McGonagall, and Professor Snape. 

“I need to talk to Professor Dumbledore alone.” 

For a moment, she wasn’t sure that they’d heard her. They just stared at her as if she were a ghost… or something that didn’t teach classes at their school. 

“Please,” she added. 

“Excuse me, Ms. Granger?” Professor McGonagall said. 

“It’s important. I’m really not exaggerating when I say the fate of the world could quite literally be at stake, and Professor Dumbledore’s the only one who will truly understand why. I’d explain it now, but it’d take far too long, and there’s a lot no one else should know.” 

Kingsley looked to Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall drew herself up, and Professor Snape rolled his eyes at Hermione. None of them were taking her seriously. 

“Rose is alive, and I can prove it!” 

_That_ got their attention. They all looked like they had questions, although Professor Snape looked like he was ready to laugh her out of the room, but she ignored them and spoke directly to Professor Dumbledore. 

“Professor Dumbledore, you asked me about a locket over the summer. You said if it turns out to be something, that you’d love to hear about it. Now I know for sure that it’s something.” 

Dumbledore considered her words for a moment. 

“Albus, you can’t—” McGonagall said, but Dumbledore cut her off. 

“Does it involve Rose’s friend?” 

“It does.” 

“I see.” He turned to the other adults in the room. “Give us 20 minutes.” 

The other adults exchanged glances, then slowly shuffled towards the door. One by one, they left, leaving Hermione alone with Dumbledore. 

“We shouldn’t talk here,” Hermione said. “Sylvia could overhear.” 

“And if we have this conversation outside of Hogwarts, someone else will overhear,” Dumbledore replied. “I’m afraid whatever it is you’ve learned, you’ll have to explain it here.” 

Hermione explained what she knew about Lux. She spoke slowly at first, examining the walls for anything moving. As she got more comfortable with the idea that Sylvia wasn’t about to kill them, she spoke faster, frantically trying to get everything out of her head. 

“And you’re sure the locket’s not the one from Grimmauld Place?” he asked when she was finished. 

“There’s too much coincidence around her. Taltria recognized her face. She had the same name as the doppelganger from Rose’s world. The same face. But the real Aurora Lux is too clever for that. She never holds onto a face longer than she needs to. She’s a Factotum! You need to be clever to be a Factotum. So either she got sloppy, which makes no sense, or whoever that really was wanted us to recognize her. Rose only ever told me that name. Then there’s the locket. The locket her friend shielded. Only you, I, Professor Snape, and Voldemort can see it. When Voldemort showed up, she kept it hidden so he wouldn’t recognize it.” 

“I’m curious: Why would he have recognized it?” 

Hermione explained the Horcruxes as Rose had explained them to her. 

“I can’t explain why she’s collecting them, otherwise Sylvia will overhear, and that’s assuming she’s not about to come out of the walls and kill us both. The point is that the locket ‘Lux’ has got is the same one Rose had. Exactly the same. A name she knew I would recognize, with a face she knew Taltria and Alavel would recognize. Alavel’s wise, but not particularly clever. Taltria’s just got Charisma. They won’t put it all together. You would recognize the locket, but not realize its significance. But Lux went straight after me. I wasn’t remotely the biggest threat out there. Alavel was dismantling any threat that came near Harry. Apart from knocking Lestrange down a few pegs, Lux didn’t need to go after me. She wanted me to see that locket. She wanted me to know it was her.” 

Dumbledore folded his hands in front of his face and frowned at his desk. Every time Hermione opened her mouth again, he shook his head to silence her. Hermione let her mind wander, drifting through the possibilities. 

“I find your argument hard to deny,” he said at last. “But I regrettably don’t know anything of this. If you’re hoping that I’m going to tell you that I sent Rose into deep cover, you’re going to be disappointed.” 

Part of her had wanted to hear that, but she didn’t feel disappointment. 

“If you’d known, you would’ve told me by now. She knew you didn’t know. But… why tell me at all? Why would she want me to know?” 

“I wish I could tell you, Ms. Granger, but I can’t. We’re now faced with the possibility that Rose will come after the people inside this school. The wards don’t stop her. So I’m going to need to know everything you know about her.” 

Hermione shook her head and glanced nervously at the walls. 

“I don’t know what’s safe to tell you.” 

“I only need to know about Rose herself. What can she do? What have you seen her do?” 

Hermione didn’t know what to do. Some part of her felt it was wrong to run down the list of everything she knew about Rose. 

“It must’ve been the only way she could get a message out,” Hermione said. “And she paused! Before destroying Alavel, she held her wand to him! There’s a chance she didn’t actually destroy him! She was probably telling him something over the telepathic network!” 

Dumbledore sighed, and Hermione knew at once that she didn’t believe her. 

“Ms. Granger, I’ve been here before,” he said. “Many, many times before. I made excuses for a dear friend of mine for a long time before finally realizing that he’d become corrupted. By then… by then it was too late. I will not stand by and watch you make my mistakes.” 

“But—” 

“Going forward, you and I will operate as though Rose is the enemy. She may go after you or your friends, so they will need to be on alert as well. They must be informed that Rose is alive, but not that she is against us. They must be on alert, but need not know that she may have fallen.” 

Hermione tossed his words around for a time. Rose was still her friend, she was sure of it. Something had happened, something Sylvia had done. Could Sylvia bypass _mind blank_? If so, why hadn’t she just taken over Hermione herself? Unless she had, and Hermione just didn’t know it yet. 

_Her influence doesn’t extend outside of Hogwarts. She can’t be controlling Rose directly._

Rose would never harm one of them of her own free will. Even more sacred to Rose were her creations. Ron had nearly died because Rose refused to dismantle the first task. The only logical conclusion was that Rose hadn’t destroyed Alavel of her own free will. 

“Ms. Granger, please. Whatever is going on, it isn’t good. As you said, the fate of the world could potentially be at stake, and Rose may be against us. We won’t go after her until we know for sure, but until then, we must be able to defend ourselves.” 

Hermione sighed. 

“Alright.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Notes** : That wraps up year five. Next week will be another chapter of _Garnet Gamble_ , then on to year six: _Draco Malfoy and the Villain in Vermilion_. 
> 
> * * *
> 
> “It looks like Umbridge has been,” Ins said, replacing her spectacles with sunglasses, “ _Insinerated_.” 
> 
> She turned and walked out of the castle in slow motion. 


End file.
